Work of Art
by abstract way
Summary: Brilliant artist Edward is celebrated in the art world, but are trappings of fame also destroying him? In the lust filled world of art-whores & predators, feisty Bella knocks him off his pedestal. Will he realize that she alone has the power to heal him?
1. Chapter 1 The Artist Emerges

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

This story is a collision of my real life in the art world with the Twilight world, and ultimately it's a Bella and Edward love story. I have spent my life surrounded by working artists and many of the characters in this story are based on people I have known. Keep in mind that when creative people come together it is rarely an easy road but it can be a brilliant, passionate one. It is this passion that has inspired the world's works of art that add color to the gray landscape of life and touch our hearts.

I have taken great delight while writing to incorporate shout-outs to my favorite bloggers, twitter gals, fan fic stories and authors into the writing. There will be at least one in every chapter. I have done this in the spirit of gratitude and reverence, and I sincerely hope it is taken that way. Let me know via reviews if you catch them and share my favorites too!

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**Work of Art / Chapter One / The Artist Emerges**

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We are living in a storm where a hundred contradictory elements collide; debris from the past, scraps from the present, scenes of the future: swirling, combining, separating, under the imperious wind of destiny.

Adolphe Rette` La Plume 1898

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"Get the fuck away from me Jasper. I'm not going to kiss your faux-art collector's ass!"

I looked up, startled, just in time to see the blur of a man charging into our exhibit pavilion. In his fury, he slams the wall I am facing with his fist, and I jump up as the row of paintings quiver, finally settling back down all askew.

The second man, who I assume to be "Jasper," is right on his heels, and he glances at me and rolls his eyes as he follows his raging artist into our private viewing room. Not one to miss the drama, I jump up and position myself on the edge of the entrance just in time to watch Carlisle slowly stand and address his company. My boss, Carlisle, has a regal air accentuated by his black turtleneck, tailored black wool slacks and silver shock of hair against his tan rugged face. Something in the way he carries himself makes him a formidable presence. He steeples his fingers together in thought and turns to study the large abstract painting to the left of his chair, wide black slashes of paint across a crimson field, before he turns back to the two men.

"Edward, Jasper, the show has just begun and you are already at war." He pauses, waiting for them to settle, and then smiles at Jasper. "I warned you Jasper not to have him at the show. Edward doesn't suffer fools gladly, and there are plenty of fools here who think they know art."

Jasper's dark eyes narrow in frustration and he grumbles, "We can't exhibit at the most important art show of the year and not have our star artist there. Carlisle, you know better then anyone that the collectors want to meet the artists before they invest."

"Invest, fuck I hate that word!" Edward curses as he throws his head back in exasperation. "They buy a work of art and they hang it in their home and make it part of their lives. There should be a passion about it because it's a relationship they are having with their art. Investing is for buying god damn real estate or government bonds!"

Although I still haven't seen his face clearly, I notice the muscles ripple across his back as he crosses his arms defiantly. He is tall, clearly over six feet, with strong broad shoulders and a tangled mess of bronze hair.

Edward turns back to Carlisle. "So Jasper serves me up on a platter to this tiny, irritating woman with her face pulled so tight it looks like it is about to snap," he rants. "She keeps scraping her acrylic fingernails up and down my arms going on about how she loves my work, while it is taking my entire focus to keep my breakfast down. As if that isn't brain numbing enough, her flaming yippy designer suddenly whips open a Hermes tote and starts pulling out fabric swatches."

"Why couldn't you have just gotten me, Edward?" Jasper interrupts in frustration. "That was Mrs. Stanley, her husband owns the world's largest chain of sporting good stores and a chunk of New Jersey, and they spend millions on art every year!"

"I don't give a fuck who she is," Edward exclaims his voice rising. "The little bitch told me she wanted me to re-paint my major work _Breaking Dawn_ in colors to match her bedspread."

I gasp in horror, and the room suddenly goes quiet as the three surprised men turn around to regard me. "That is outrageous," I state angrily as I shake my head. "What an insult!" And as I look in sympathy towards the artist, I gasp again to see the most stunning man, who is now also examining me intently. Published pictures I have seen of Edward Masen just haven't done him justice. His eyes are the most extraordinary shade of green, and his face the perfect chiseled combination of angles, accented by full dark lips. Those very lips curl up, and his eyes spark as he regards me, his newfound ally.

"And you are?" Jasper asks, irritated. I am being challenged for stepping out of my lowly station in the business of art.

"Gentlemen, this is my Bella" Carlisle says affectionately. "She is new to this side of the art world and still has so much to learn."

"Sounds like she knows more then either one of you," replies Edward, as he slowly moves towards me. I lower my eyes and can feel a blush burn across my cheeks as he reaches out and gently takes my hand. "Bella, such an appropriate name" he murmurs to himself. "Bella, I'm Edward Masen, and I don't paint to match bedspreads."

"Of course" I smile shyly, now realizing one of the most important emerging artists, according to the last issue of _Newsweek_, is still holding my hand. You can feel the energy surging around this magnificent man, and where our hands are linked his energy is flowing into me, igniting a fire somewhere deep inside. I realize that I am not breathing, and for a moment I don't remember how.

I had just read an expose on Edward Masen in _Art World News,_ which romanticized the fiery, mercurial disposition of the young artist. Well, clearly they weren't far off the mark, but they neglected to mention how incredibly charming he is as well. The longer he gazes at me, the more aware I become of the absurdity of my instantaneous infatuation. This man is a god, and I am so ordinary. Yes, I have a creative passion burning inside of me, but I haven't done a single notable thing in my entire life. He, on the other hand, has already exhibited around the world. As I glance down, aware of my conservative attire of a tailored white shirt and simple black skirt, I grimace realizing that I even dress to blend in. If I hadn't boldly defended this artist just now, he would have never ever have noticed me. _You have to lay off the romantic novels, Bella_, I think to myself. _The prince of the art world won't be sweeping you off your feet._

But I look up at Edward and he is still smiling.

"Carlisle, would you mind if I borrowed 'your Bella' for a bit? I want some coffee, and I sense she is just the one to calm me down." He looks down and winks at me, and I shifted uncomfortably. As Edward takes my arm and begins leading me out of the room, I look back at Carlisle, and although he looks extremely displeased, he quietly nods for me to go ahead.

"Grab your coat" Edward instructs me, and I reach for my purse as well, wondering what I have gotten myself into.

Although the aisles of the exhibition are crowded with people, Edward seems to easily clear a path as he quickly pulls me away from the scene. I can feel people's eyes on us, I assume due to Edward's striking good looks. I realize he must deal with this on a daily basis, and I shudder at the thought of that much attention. He picks up speed, and I become entranced by the blur of colors and light from the paintings and sculptures we pass before I suddenly realized that he is leading me out of the hall. "Where are we going?" I ask just before we explode out the exit and into the crisp cold air of New York City.

The sights and sounds of the city are now upon us, the jagged skyline of buildings against the vivid blue sky. Overwhelmed in sensation, I take in the swirling sound of traffic and voices, the flash of lights and people walking past. I am also intrigued by the mystery of where this man is taking me. I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them I realize that Edward has stepped forward and hailed a cab and is holding the door open for me. "Your coach madam," he announces, smiling, as I slide inside.

As he leans forward to give the driver directions, I catch his scent, a mixture of soap and a subtle musk, some fragrance I don't recognize. I feel my insides clench. God he is good looking. I focus on the strong line of his jaw and the rough texture of his unshaven face. I have an urge to scrap my teeth along that jaw, and I press my legs together with the thought.

He flops back into the seat. "We have escaped Bella!" he laughs. "We are free!" and I laugh too, delighted to see him so happy.

"You are a bad influence Mr. Masen," I admonish him with a teasing tone. "I am supposed to be cataloguing paintings right now, not gallivanting off with you." I tip my head and gaze at him through my eyelashes playfully.

"Well, fuck that," he announces, "gallivanting is the order of the day. Only the best for my defender and savior, Bella" and he lifts my hand to his cheek and pulls it slowly across his face, lightly brushing my hand with his lips before setting it back in my lap. My heart is doing a wild rumba in my chest and I turn away embarrassed and gaze out the window.

The cab lets us off on a side street in the Village, and we descend a short flight of stairs before entering a small Italian restaurant with dark wood paneled walls and soft lighting. There is a weathered fresco of the hills of Tuscany painted on the far wall. It seems as though the patrons in the restaurant are all whispering, as there is a gentle muted blend of voices floating through the air.

As we step further into the restaurant, we are greeted warmly, and it is apparent that Edward charmed everyone who works here long ago. They fawn over him like a long lost brother and treat me like his adored queen. I don't even notice him ordering but quickly a bottle of Ruffino Chianti and platters of bruschetta, calamari and antipasto are laid before us. _So much for coffee_, I think to myself. This is much more grand, and I am secretly delighted.

Edward settles back, stretching his strong arms across the top of the booth and watches me intently as I sip my wine and twist my napkin nervously with my free hand.

"So I've never seen you at the show before Bella, how long have you been working for Carlisle?"

"Well," I hesitate trying to determine how much I should edit my story. "Carlisle had offered me a job seven years ago when I was in a very tough spot, and he and Esme ended up bringing me into their family. As a matter of fact, while I was finishing up my degree at UCLA, I even lived with them with them, in a guesthouse on their property. I also help Jacob Black run their print studio, but recently Carlisle has been getting me involved in various aspects of the business."

"Well, they must think a lot of you," Edward responds thoughtfully.

"Believe me," I answer solemnly, "the feeling is mutual. I'm not sure what would have happened to me if it hadn't been for them. I owe them a lot."

He looks at me intently. I assume wondering what I'm not revealing. "And what did you study at UCLA?" he asks.

"My major was Art History with a focus on Contemporary Art, and I minored in literature. Literature because of my passion for reading, both classic and current authors, but I also have a particular interest in writing about art. "

I then quickly change the topic by asking Edward about his recent work. As he explains his recent exploration of technology and the decline of society and its effect on nature, we then get into a heated dialogue about the significance of the Internet and mobile media in how we relate to the world at large.

"Do you live in L.A. full time?" I ask hopeful.

"Yes," he smiles. "There is a large group from L.A. at the show this year. It seemed like half of my plane on the way over was an artist or dealer." He lifts his glass and takes a sip of wine. "I'm staying through Wednesday, but most people are leaving Tuesday after the show closes. How about you guys?"

"Yes, all of us are on a later flight Tuesday evening." I feel a surge, wishing I was on his Wednesday flight.

Before I know it we have almost emptied the bottle of wine and I'm feeling how the effects have softened all my edges. At this point I am probably sounding like an idiot, but Edward doesn't seem to notice. Edward is still engaged in the conversation, and I note that he definitely looks more relaxed as well.

"You know Bella," Edward whispers to me, "You have the most beautiful brown eyes, but they are hiding behind those glasses." He pauses taking in my reaction. "I see that you are going for that whole severe, serious-lady look, but I'd like to see you loosened up a little." He grins at me widely. "Can I do something?"

I swallow nervously and nod my head. Very slowly he reaches over and removes my glasses carefully folding them and placing them on the table. He waits a moment, perhaps to see if I will object but I remain quiet, my eyes focused down on the tablecloth. He proceeds next as he reaches just above the back of my neck and pulls down on the hair tie until my hair falls loose around my shoulders.

I take a deep breath and slowly look up at him, noticing that there is a glint in his eyes. He looks very pleased, and I wonder if he knows how much he is provoking me. I gaze at his full lips and wonder how they would taste.

"One more thing," he murmurs as he lifts his hands and holds them in mid-air between us, considering his next move. Finally he stretches over and brushes his fingers along my collar, then slowly unbuttons the top button of my blouse. I quietly gasp, and my eyes widen as he undoes the following two buttons. He pulls back, taking in the changes, and nods his head satisfied.

"Much better," he affirms. "I bet you don't even realize how lovely you are."

_Is he kidding?_ I am doubtful due to the intense look he is giving me. God, does this man know how to unravel a woman. I know my face is on fire, and I can feel the flush burn across the top of my chest below my now exposed collarbone. I smile at him while trying to control all the impulses surging through me.

My mind wanders and in my imagination he is leaning back against the booth, his head tipped towards the light while I undo each one of his shirt buttons slowly, and then pull his shirt open. I start with my lips pressed just under his jaw, and I slowly burn a trail of kisses across his chest, over his nipples and then down his abdomen. He tangles his fingers in my hair as he holds me gently, his soft moan encouraging me on.

"Bella?"

My eyes snap into focus when I realize he is speaking to me again.

"Will you come to my show tomorrow night?" he asks. "Rose is coming-you could come with her….or of course, you can bring whomever you wish. It's down in Soho at ArtHouse."

"Well, I'd like to go. I'm sure I can come with Rose, or even Carlisle."

"Here give me your phone," he says holding his hand open to me. "I'll give you my number and you can call if you can't arrange it with anyone and I'll send my car for you."

_Wow._ I hand him my phone, and when he's done programming mine he pulls out his iPhone and asks for my number. He imputs it quickly and runs his finger over the screen closing it. He is smooth as silk. _I am programmed in Edward Masen's phone_, I giggle to myself. I wonder how many other girls are lined up on that microchip?

He takes another sip of his wine and tips his head sideways as he takes in my new look again. Do I look that different or is it something else? It's as if he is seeing me in a new light. "So what's your passion, Bella? Is it working in the art field, or is there something else you really want to do?"

And I take a sharp breath, realizing that this is the first time in my entire life that anyone has asked me this question; not just what I want to study in college, or what I want to do for my career, but what my passion is, what my heart is telling me to do. As I consider his question, dozens of thoughts slide through my mind.

"Well, when I moved to California my simple intent was to survive and prove to myself that I could take care of myself. I was so lucky later to meet Carlisle and Esme's son, Emmett, who led me to the art business." I smile remembering those early days getting to know the Cullens. "It has been very exciting to get to work in the area of one of my great passions, art. But it can be discouraging too. As you know better than I. That was certainly confirmed by your experience with Mrs. Stanley today. It is eye-opening to learn that it is merely a business to so many people involved in the art world. "

"Unfortunately a majority of the people," he agrees.

"But I have loved the experience of getting to know the artists. And seeing how people create sparked the feeling that I wanted to create something too. I'm not an artist, but I do have a gift with words, so now I spend a lot of my free time writing and working on poems or various stories. I recently was accepted in a prestigious writing group, so it's forcing me to develop my craft and share my work with peers. It's nerve wracking but fulfilling at the same time."

"That's wonderful Bella," Edward confirms. "It is so easy to get off track when real life gets in the way, but always remember, there is nothing more important than following your passion." His face is so alive, so handsome and the way he is looking at me makes me feel like I am the most important person in the world.

There are certain moments of clarity where you can feel your world shift. And that is how I feel in this moment, it's like this man has pushed me off a cliff. The freefall is terrifying yet exhilarating because I am finally feeling something in my heavy heart. I have never felt so wide-awake. It is dangerous and joyful and wicked and deep: the realization that I am under the spell of Edward Masen, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

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**Thank you to my dear friend Lisa for encouraging me to share this story. **

**And thank you for taking a chance on Work of Art. In the world of art passion and excitement abound…so buckle up and hold on…it's going to be a long and bumpy ride…**


	2. Chapter 2 Paint By Numbers

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

I have taken great delight while writing to incorporate shout-outs to my favorite bloggers, twitter gals, fan fic stories and authors into the writing.

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**Work of Art / Chapter Two / Paint by Numbers **

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"Are you going to be in trouble?" Edward asks, with a mischievous grin.

The waiter has just delivered the check, and Edward picks it up immediately so that there is no question who is paying. The interruption has succeeded in snapping us back to reality before I have a chance to share any more of my story.

"Trouble, why?" I ask, startled. Has he been reading my mind? The idea that he would know the illicit thoughts I'm having about him horrifies me. But then I look down and realize that he's studying his watch with a frown.

"We have been here over two hours."

"Good God!" I exclaim sliding out of the booth. "Carlisle is going to kill me. I need to get back."

"Slow down Cinderella," he chuckles, "don't worry, I won't let our carriage turn into a pumpkin or anything. We'll get a cab and I'll call Carlisle and make up an excuse." We're showered with a medley of warm good-byes from the restaurant staff, as we make our way out the door.

It takes a few moments for our eyes to adjust to the bright light after being cocooned in the dim restaurant for two hours, but the bustle of traffic and people rushing past helps us along. I notice a group of people standing to our left talking and they are distinctive because they are all exceptionally thin and good looking. I assume it's a bunch of models as there is an agency just down the street, although I can't be sure. But then as we step towards the curb one of the women turns towards us and appears to recognize Edward. He looks over at her just a moment later, and they both immediately gasp happily. The tall beauty runs over. "Edward!" she squeals as she wraps her arms around his neck.

He hugs her back, swinging her off her feet. "Ms. Kathy! It's been forever. Where have you been, beautiful?"

She stays in his arms while they talk, and she runs her long fingers through his hair, while his fingers are clasped together behind her back, holding her in place.

During the time I had spent with Edward, it felt like he had aimed a glowing spotlight on me, and now it has suddenly shifted to _Ms. Kathy,_ and I am left standing in the dark. It is that abrupt and startling. _It is as if I'm not even here_, and I feel myself slowly seeping into the cement of the grey and grainy sidewalk. I am so embarrassed that I want to disappear.

Just then I see a vacant cab turn onto our street, and I step forward to flag it down. As I open the door, Edward finally realizes that I'm leaving and he calls out, "Hey Bella, I'll see you back at the show." And I nod, not looking back at him until I am seated and the door is closed. The beautiful couple is still talking animatedly and I can't believe how crestfallen I am considering I only met him hours ago.

As the cab rolls back towards the exhibit hall, I methodically put my glasses on, button my shirt all the way up to the collar and pull my hair back in a ponytail, all the well admonishing myself for starting to believe that his flirtation meant something. Some men make charming women a hobby. It's possible he does it so automatically, so effortlessly that he doesn't even realize the emotional minefield he can leave behind. I stoically try to remind myself that even if Edward was interested in me, what could we have together but an impossible mess? So my heart closes back up and seals itself shut.

As I approach our exhibit, I see that Carlisle is busy with clients, so I slip into the viewing room quietly to put my things away. I am grateful he is doing so much business because it has distracted him from the fact that I was MIA for over two hours. The rest of the afternoon stays busy as we prepare for Rose's appearance.

Rose is my favorite of our artists, she is tough as nails and doesn't give a crap about what anyone thinks of her or her art. Her current work, oversized canvases featuring textured paintings of street musicians and dancers, is painted in a loose style with bold strokes and color, full of energy and tension. Collectors either love Rose or hate her which makes for entertaining openings and appearances. What I would give to have a tenth of her attitude.

Her personal life is equally flamboyant. She always is in some dramatic relationship, her last girlfriend Bree was an entertainment lawyer by day and a Harley rider by night. Their fights were epic. Rose took great delight in shocking me with stories of their bar brawls and make-up sex. Happily her latest love is a woman named Lauren, who is extremely driven at work, but she is fun and easy going the rest of the time. She and Rose are perfect for each other and they look like they are in it for the long haul.

Rose treats me like a little sister and always invites me to her parties or to just hang out at her studio, which is attached to her home in West Hollywood. Although her friends know I'm not gay, they still welcome me and make me feel like part of their family.

Seth, the DJ for our event has arrived, along with the three street dancers we have hired to perform. I also direct the bartender where to set up. In all the excitement I realize that I've forgotten my dressier outfit to change into for the event. There's no time to go back to the hotel, so I shrug my shoulders thinking I'll just have to make due.

"Bella! My favorite bitch!" and I turn crimson as Rose storms towards me laughing, her blonde hair spiked, a million little daggers around her head. She is wearing tight black leather pants and a dramatic long jacket that has graffiti painted on the back. "Girl, how the hell are you?" I look over her shoulder and see her entourage in tow as Rose grabs me in a bear hug.

"Rose, I'm so glad you're here." I sigh happily, feeling grateful because this party will take my mind off the events earlier in the day. "Are you happy with how things look?" I ask waving my arms towards the artwork. "Anything need to be moved? Is the lighting okay?"

"Yeah, it looks good," she replies. "And Carlisle tells me he's already sold five paintings. It's all good." She steps back and looks at me. "But what about you, baby Bella, I thought you were going to pretty-up for my show?"

"I know I promised Rose, and then I went and forgot my stuff at the hotel. I'm sorry about that."

"Lauren," she calls over her girlfriend, "Bella forgot her fancy threads at her hotel. What can we do with her?"

With no hesitation Lauren pulls me into the viewing room and shuts the door behind Rose. Lauren is a make-up artist for film, and working magic is her job description. She pulls open her black canvas tote and starts pulling a series of items out. I can't believe this is my second makeover of the day. It must be a sign.

"Take off that shirt," Lauren commands as she pulls a small black tank top encrusted with rhinestones out of the bag. "The embellishment is Rose's logo from her website. It will be perfect." As I pull my shirt off revealing my white lace bra, she shakes her head, "the bra will have to go too."

"No way." I shake my head.

"Look, this shirt is tight to hold you in, and the rhinestones will cover your whole chest area, it won't be a big deal, Ms. Modesty." I lift my eyebrows and feel myself break out into a cold sweat. Rose reaches behind and undoes the bra clasp before I can say anything and Lauren pulls the bra away. Her eyes get big. "Oh baby," she moans playfully, "so gorgeous-are these real?" as she reaches over and palms one of my breasts.

"Hands off, Lauren," Rose warns, "you are going to freak her out." And before I can even process what has happened the tank is pulled over my head and down towards my waist.

"Well, she's right, it's tight alright," I comment trying to ignore the fact that Rose's girlfriend just fondled my naked breast, and my nipples are hard from the cold air in the hall.

"Skirt's too long," Lauren comments as she grabs my waistband and yanks the knit skirt up so it now ends mid-thigh and she folds the excess waist line down over my hips. She reaches into the Mary Poppins bag, "here put these fish net tights on. That will look hot especially with the pumps you are wearing."

To finish the effect she whips out a tool kit and works a smoky color around my eyes, applies a dark berry stain to my full lips. In a flurry, she takes my hair down and works a gel through the chestnut strands until it is a tousled, wavy mess.

"You are good to go," Lauren states as she steps back to review her work. The whole thing has taken less then five minutes.

I slink back. "I can't go out there. I look like a whore."

"You wish," Lauren laughs. "Your natural look is like an elegant porcelain doll, you couldn't look like a whore if you tried. Yes, you definitely look fuckable, but in a Four Seasons, Dom Perignon kind of way."

"Now you're talking," Rose smiles widely. "Let's do this thing" and she heads out the door ready to party.

If Carlisle's reaction is any indication, I must really look different, as he has to do a double take before he realizes it's me. "Wow, Bella," he comments appreciatively. "You look stunning." He turns to Lauren. "Was that such a good idea? Everyone is going to be looking at her instead of the paintings."

"Oh yeah, right" I moan and go to get my client list and folder in an attempt to focus back on my job.

I instruct the DJ to start up the music, and as the Kings of Leon's, _Sex on Fire_ blasts through the speakers the guests start arriving. The bartender is serving up mojitos in graffiti sprawled glasses along with beer and wine, and before you know it the crowd is getting loose and comfortable, the perfect vibe for buying art.

Carlisle is the master of the soft sell, cleverly talking people out of buying the art until they are begging him for it. He then turns them over to me so I can do the less glamorous part of arranging payments and delivery. But I don't even mind this tonight because the whole vibe is so festive. The dancers interact with the clients, and Rose holds court like the queen she knows she is. The photographer gets shots of her with the significant guests and other artists that have come by to say hello. A few of these will surely be published in _Art World News_ if Carlisle has anything to say about it.

With all the important business taken care of, I finally allow my self to relax a bit as Carlisle, who had stashed away several bottles of champagne for this moment, gives me a full glass for us to toast Rose, and our event, which at this point is clearly a success. The first glass goes down easily and I give myself permission to take a second and as the champagne slides down my throat I feel the warmth start to unfurl in my body. I am almost at my happy place when I catch a glimpse of a tall rugged man at our bar, and he has his arm around one of the art groupies that showed up for the event.

_Fuck! It's Edward,_ I think with frustration. And although he is really the last person I want to see, I decide to ignore him and not let it ruin my evening. I wander over to the DJ and request _Solar Midnight _by Lupe Fiasco. "Time for some fun, Seth. I need to relax."

Seth and I have become friendly through the different jobs I've hired him for, he smiles broadly his perfect white teeth contrasting his smooth ebony skin. "Let it go girl!" Seth teases me. "And I hope you don't mind me saying that you look very fine tonight." He dazzles me with his smile once again and I slip behind his music station so we can chat and dance around a bit. His dreadlocks sway and he takes my hand and twirls me around. I throw my head back laughing, my mood quickly improving. The music has a driving funk vibe and our bodies move easily together. Seth reaches over and knocks the volume up again and you can see the crowd loosening up. Several people move over to the little dance floor that had been set up for the performers.

"Bella, babe," Seth leans in to whisper in my ear, "who's that dude talking to Carlisle? He's staring at you like he wants to eat you for dinner."

I look up and see Carlisle and Edward across the room discussing something and they look very serious, all the while Edward's eyes are baring into me. I turn back to Seth as we continue to move to the music, but in the corner of my eye I can see Edward start to come towards me, a leopard moving towards its prey. I am still trying to pretend I don't know he's there, but the energy from his intensity is making me nervous. _Damn,_ I think_, I really don't want to deal with this right now_.

Edward stops just in front of the soundboard, waiting for me to acknowledge him. His eyes are dark and serious and I have no idea what his expression means. The music is too loud to converse across the table, so he reaches out for my hand and guides me out from around the table until I am in front of him. His eyes move all the way down to my feet and back up and he smiles. Evidently he likes what he sees. _Of course the whore look would appeal to him_, my inner bitch snarks.

"Bella," he says with deep tenor in his voice. "This is the second time today you have surprised me, and we just met. What other secrets are you hiding?"

_Don't even go there, Rico Suave._ "I cross my arms protectively over my chest. "Hey, Edward, it was nice of you to come to Rose's show." I figure the polite professional route is the way to handle him.

"Well, Rose is an old friend. We were at art school together." He replies. "But don't change the subject, Bella." He reaches up and unfolds my arms, slowly sliding his hands down to mine. "How else can you surprise me tonight?" he presses, his eyes now hooded.

"Surprise?" I bite my lip nervously. _He's messing with me again._

"Yes, you were dressed like a lawyer earlier, and now you look like a rock star.

"Oh, you can thank Lauren for that," I roll my eyes. "I had nothing to do with this." I wave my hands across my body. "Rose seemed to think I was under dressed for the event so she had Lauren re-style me."

"Well, I'll thank Lauren later." He laughs and looks up to see Carlisle looking over at us. "Oh, we are being watched. You know Carlisle just told me to stay away from you." He watches me carefully for my reaction.

"Well, I see you take direction well." I smirk.

"Why is Carlisle so protective of you?"

"He must think you'd be a bad influence. " I reflect for a moment, my heart swelling. "He and Esme are like parents to me. They know I can take care of myself, but they still can't seem to help looking out for me."

"Well, that is very sweet," he admits. "But I definitely don't like being told what to do."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me. So did Carlisle give you a reason as to why you should stay away from me?" I ask, curious now.

"That's my secret, and you are going to have to get it out of me." He takes my hands again as he begins to slowly walk backwards pulling me along. I realize we are heading towards the dance floor.

Oh I really don't want to dance with Edward, but then again I do. He seems to sense my inner conflict but doesn't wait for my resolution, he rests one hand on my hip and slides the other up as he starts slowly dancing with me.

Of course the bastard is a great dancer, moving slowly, seductively and I find myself moving in tandem with him, my natural awkwardness dissolving. I feel the beat of the music pulsing through me as he pulls me towards him. I try not to look at him because every time I do his green eyes are looking not just at me, but into me, and through me. It is unnerving but incredibly arousing. _Fuck, the alcohol must be getting to me. _I want to press up against him but I don't dare.

He slowly twirls me around as the music crests and this time he pulls me back with just a sliver of space now between us. My breath hitches, and right then I feel another hand on my shoulder. I look up to see Carlisle and he doesn't look happy.

"Bella, I need you over here," he says firmly, fighting to be heard over the loud music. "Mr. Uley is back, and he wants to make a change with the installation." He steps back and waits for me to join him.

I look up at Edward. "Excuse me," I murmur, and then move away following Carlisle.

I take several steps forward before I even begin to regain my composure. Surely dealing with Mr. Uley will bring me back down to earth.

Mr. Uley lives in a museum-like mid-century home with terrazzo floors and walls of glass. It is perched on a bluff overlooking L.A. As spectacular as it is, his house seems barely lived in and has always felt cold to me. Rose's painting, which he now has decided should hang in the foyer, will liven things up a bit, but we have to go over every detail at least three times. Every meeting with him is fraught with high anxiety. By the time I finish the final notes with Mr. Control-freak Extraordinaire, the crowd is starting to disperse, and Seth is packing up his gear.

My ears perk up as I hear Rose's voice coming from the viewing room, and she sounds very pissed off. Concerned, I move closer to the doorway to listen.

"What are you fucking doing, Edward?" she growls, "You are so god damned transparent. She doesn't need to be your next conquest, your thirty-one flavor fuck, so just leave her the hell alone."

"What you too?" Edward barks back, clearly agitated. "Why does everyone seem to feel the need to protect Bella from me? She seems very capable of making up her own mind. Besides I'm not fucking with her. I just danced with her for gods sake, you make it sound like I'm about to drag her by her hair to my cave."

I sway and grab lean into the wall to steady myself. They are talking about me. I consider walking into the room to speak for myself. Once I assure them that I would never be interested in someone like Edward, there would be no reason for them to argue. But my feet suddenly feel glued to the floor, and a feeling I can't even understand holds me back.

"Oh yeah, just dancing," she replies sarcastically. "And I paint by numbers."

"Does she have a boyfriend? Is that what this is about?"

"I'm not going to even answer that," barks Rose.

"What, is this because you like her? I bet you want to get into her pants," he taunts.

"Fuck you Edward. That is so muy macho. You think a lesbian can't have a friendship with a straight woman, that all I care about is getting between her legs," Rose fumes. "I love Bella because she is extraordinary in every way. She's a loyal friend, and she deserves the best."

She pauses and then her voice drops. "You know it's not just Bella I'm worried about, Edward. I'm worried about you."

"You have no reason to worry about me, Rose." He sounds offended.

"Yeah well, you just seem to be all over the place-partying too hard, a parade of vapid women-it's like you are starting to believe this fame bullshit. What really matters to you these days, Edward?" There is no reply.

"I just wish you had someone to navigate this all with, someone to enjoy it with. I haven't seen you with anyone you could care less about since Tan…"

"Stop!" he snaps. "Don't go there, Rose. Just don't go there."

"All right, Edward, I'm done. You know the irony is the guy you used to be, that sensitive brilliant guy I roomed with our first year at Pratt, he is someone that would have been perfect for Bella. Is that guy still somewhere in there?"

"Rose," he sounds like he is in agony now.

"I hope so, I really liked that guy." And with that she sweeps out of the room, luckily turning the opposite direction of where I stand. I quickly walk over to Seth, grabbing my third glass of champagne which I quickly guzzle, the fine bubbles burning my throat. I don't turn around to see Edward leave the room.

"Bella, Baby, are you alright?" Seth asks concerned. "You look whiter then usual."

"Uh, Seth do you mind if I catch a ride with you? I want to get out of here and my hotel is just a few blocks away." I twist the edge of my shirt nervously. He agrees, and I let Carlisle know that I'm leaving.

It has rained while we were in the hall, and the cool air feels good against my face. All the street lights glow, their colors reflected in the wet asphalt. My mind is swirling with everything I have just heard. I jump up into the van next to Seth and we take off.

"So, who was the guy?" Seth asks me playfully.

"Do you mean Rico Suave?" I throw back.

"Yeah Rico. He sure seemed to have a thing for you. Are you dating?"

"Hardly," I reply. "We just met today, and no, I'm not interested." I look over and see Seth's eyes widen as he shakes his head.

"Could have fooled me," he wonders out loud. "That was some pretty powerful chemistry burning between you two."

"Oh, you're such a romantic," I reply back, trying to keep it light. He pulls up in front of my hotel. I reach over to him and give him a goodbye hug. "Thanks Seth. I'll call you tomorrow to settle things up."

As I watched him drive off, I decide to stop at the hotel bar to get a tall glass of wine to take up to my room. Alcohol seems like the best way to take the edge off my tangled mind. It has been one hell of a day. And right now, all I can think about is the hungry look in Edward's eyes right before Carlisle pulled me away.

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**My shout out in Chapter One was for Wide Awake written by AngstGoddess003 It's one of the great fanfic classics that everyone should read.**


	3. Chapter 3 Fascination Street

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

I have taken great delight while writing to incorporate shout-outs to my favorite bloggers, twitter gals, fan fic stories and authors into the writing.

**Thank you to tiderider and sonijita for my first two reviews!**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Three / Fascination Street**

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As lovely as it was for the hotel bartender to give me a wink and fill my wine glass almost to the brim, the combination of that and the three glasses of champagne in my petite frame was a bit much. Perching on the edge of my hotel room bed, clad only in my fishnet tights and black tank, I hold onto my knees hoping to correct the tilt the room has taken in my head. I focus on the framed art in front of me and chuckle. Normally I hold hotel room art with great disdain, but right now I find it completely fascinating.

I wonder if the person that created this blend of colors and stack of rectangles felt as serious about it as the artists who are represented in the best galleries. Who is to say the Rothko hanging in the Museum of Modern Art, that this artist appears to be knocking off, is any better?

"Good God Bella," I slur to myself, "you are sooooo drunk." I flop back on the bed and lift my right leg up in the air admiring the fishnet tights I had been so embarrassed about earlier. I rub my hands up and down my thighs turning my legs in the light. At first the texture is captivating me in my drunken stupor, but the more my hands rub over my legs the better I start to feel until I edge my hands up toward my inner thighs feeling the pressure between my legs.

And as soon as the pressure starts, that fucking Edward pops into my head, and no matter how hard I squeeze my thighs together in protest, I can't get him to leave again. I start remembering the hot look on his face when I defended him against Jasper. He looked at me like I was the most desirable woman on earth. I close my eyes and see him before me, all long and lean with form fitting black jeans over his strong thighs. Oh and his shoulders, his arms...I sigh. He must work out….a lot. I imagine being held by those strong arms and shoulders, and I slip my hand under the fishnets, down to where I'm already incredibly wet.

As my hand moves back and forth and my breathing gets heavy, my phantom Edward pulls me against his body, and looks down at me with those burning green eyes. "Bella," he whispers, brushing his full lips through my hair and close to my ear. "Dance with me." And as we move slowly together to this exotic music, I feel the arousal pulsing through my body. My nipples are hard and the wetness between my legs becomes more apparent with each movement. He reaches down and cups my ass, pulling me even closer to him. I feel his raging hardness pressing against me. My hand is working really fast now as I feel my climax building. He is going to be inside me very soon but first I desperately want him to kiss me, to feel his tongue slide against mine. I look up to him my lips parted.

_Wait, what the fuck_….I'm interrupted from my delicious fantasy with The Cure's _Fascination Street_ blasting out of my cell phone. I can tell from the tone that it is a text, and I take the hand not working under my tights and reach over grab the phone and hit the button to light up the screen.

_Text from: Edward Masen_

My right hand speeds up again while my left clutches the cell phone. He's not just in my head now; his words are in my hand. I can feel the electrical pulse between us, as I know the phone is still in his hand while he's thinking of me. _Oh my God._ I touch the screen and squint to read the tiny words across the screen.

_You didn't say good-bye. _

And with that I throw my head back into the pillow as he is on me, and in me, and it's so fucking good that I surge into climax, waves of fire flaming over my body and bright lights flashing through my head.

..~*~..

The grey light of morning illuminates my room as I slowly wake, trying to figure out where I am and why my head's throbbing. I shiver realizing that I am not even under the covers but spread eagle across the bed with one hand still wedged under my tights. My left hand is stiff, and as I uncurl my fingers my phone drops to the bed. _Wow,_ I realize. _I really was loaded last night._ The glowing red numbers of the clock on my nightstand tells me it is 5:50 a.m.

I stumble out of bed and peel off my tights and tank top before sliding into my p.j.s. After brushing my teeth and gulping down a tall glass of water along with two Aspirins, I crawl back in to bed so that I can get in a few more hours sleep. I hope feel human when I wake up.

The next time my eyes open my room is much brighter, and after room service coffee and toast, I decide to overcome my hangover and enjoy the extra hours I have this morning with a museum visit,. Carlisle told me that I didn't need to be back at the exposition until one p.m.. I put extra care into my appearance to make up for the out-of-control feeling the night before, and as I approach the Guggenheim Museum in my tailored navy coat, high-heeled leather boots and sleek hair, I feel quite the New Yorker.

The current exhibit: _Paris and the Avant-Garde Modern Masters_ from the Guggenheim Collection, is right up my alley. I take the elevator to the top and start the corkscrew descent that defines Frank Lloyd Wright's unique design for the museum. The exhibit is heady stuff, Chagall, Gris, Picasso, Braque, and my favorite Joan Miró. I am delighted with Miró's Carnival of Harlequin, where the whimsical shapes create a surrealist party and I get lost in the little world. I take my time in front of each painting, savoring the experience of seeing the works of art that I have studied in books come to life in front of me.

The feeling reminds me of the time in high school when Renee brought me to New York. My mom fell short in many ways, but she did try to share her love of music and art with me. She was always checking art books out of the library and teaching me about artists from different periods. Then shortly after my dad died, she took some of the insurance money and we went to New York for a week; and every day we visited a different museum. I remember that the Guggenheim was in the middle of the trip, and after seeing the exhibit we had a fancy lunch at the restaurant on the lower level. That was a defining trip for me and certainly affected my decision to study art history.

I get to the bottom of the Guggenheim spiral with just enough time to catch a cab to the hall. Carlisle is already busy getting ready for the day and gives me a warm smile. I debate whether to ask him about his conversation with Edward from the night before, but then decide with a steely resolve that I need to just push him out of my mind. There are only two more days for the show and then I won't be likely to see Edward again for a long time.

We are busy with clients all afternoon and right when it's time to wrap up Rose and company breeze in.

"So I thought we would go by Zafrina's event first, and then stop by Edward's show." Carlisle nods glancing at me to see my reaction. My face reveals nothing as I knew that was going to be the plan, and I had prepared myself.

"Am I okay in this?" I ask Rose, since my attire last night required substantial revision. She glances down at my knit sheath, which is sleeveless and hits mid-thigh above my boots. A long pendant hangs from my neck that is made of various antique Venetian beads knotted along a silk cord. Rose tips her head and smiles, "Only a figure like yours could pull off that dress. It's like a second skin. Is it cashmere? It looks so soft."

I nod and am relieved to know I won't have Lauren working me over tonight. I pull on my coat ready to leave. Zafrina's show, entitled _The Unaccompanied Soul,_ is at the International Center of Photography on 43rd Street, and it is already crowded by the time we arrive. Her large black and white photographs, still-lifes and interiors from abandoned insane asylums, are positively haunting. I appreciate the emotion they evoke, but I certainly wouldn't want one of the prints hanging in my house.

I wander through the show saying hello to some of my business acquaintances. There is a burst of laughter and loud voices in the front of the gallery and I look over to see that Rose has run into a few old friends from Pratt. She waves me over and introduces me to the impossibly hip group. Sam, who is heavily adorned with tattoos and piercings, commands everyone's attention.

"Hey Rose, Jittz-Pattz is set up in Times Square. Let's check it out." He turns towards me and smiles. "It's just too damn quiet in here."

"What is Jittz-Pattz?" I ask him.

"They are a group of performance artists led by our friend Alec, who also went to school with us. He's a performance artist and street performer."

I nod my head realizing that Rose has painted him several times in her current series. I'm happy to be included with the group and we head over to Times Square on foot laughing and joking the entire way.

As we closer to the open area of Times Square at 6th and 42nd I hear a thunderous pounding. We step up to a large crowd circled around a group of men sitting in a row with varied sizes of plastic tubs in front of them. They are beating the tubs in synchronization with large wooden sticks. In front of them is a man in a black body stocking making the strangest shapes with his body. "Alec," Sam nods toward him and tapping my shoulder. There are four other performers dancing around Alec to the tribal beat. It is electrifying.

I look over at Rose and she is already dancing and Lauren laughs and joins her, and before you know it we all are dancing and howling, a misfit tribe on the primitive savannah of Manhattan.

Just when I think I can't dance another step, Alec's group finishes the song and two of his dancers move through the crowd with tubs procuring donations. Rose tosses in a twenty. "Let's get over to ArtHouse before the booze is gone," Sam announces. "Soho, corner of Greene and Broome," he barks at the cab driver as we pile inside.

We're headed to Edward's show and I give Rose a nervous look.

"Don't worry, babe, " she assures me. "I won't let him get anywhere near you."

As we step inside ArtHouse I squint my eyes, trying to adjust to the dramatic lighting. It's dark other then the brilliant spotlights focused on Edward's large-scale paintings. The floor is vibrating with the throbbing bass of the loud music. We move to the bar where the featured drinks are IceDragons: a frozen shot of vodka with a spiced nectar chaser.

"So cool going down and then you're on fire." Sam grins as he passes me one and then downs his shot. My face flushes as the combination of the frozen vodka and blend of spices burns through me. Sam pulls me over to a painting. "Fucking Edward," he growls, "I hate him."

I look up at the towering canvas, an intricate layering of paint and scratches and words and imagery that somehow pull together cohesively. It is chaotic in that your eyes can't stop moving from one area to the next. My eyes finally settle on a small flat screen meticulously built into the canvas that is playing a series of serene images, the ocean, a grass field, a cerulean sky with puffy clouds, and then I am stunned by a documentary photograph of a man with a gun pointed at his head, his mouth twisted in terror. I suck my breath in sharply, and in the next moment the image reverts back to a field of trees.

"Sam, how you doing man?" I turn to see Edward knock knuckles with Sam, that hand thing cool guys seem to do in greeting.

"You ass," Sam chides him. "I hate you. This shit is too damn good." He nods up towards Edward's work.

Edward grins. "Well, from you that is the highest compliment."

"You bet your ass Romeo," Sam says laughing. "By the way let me introduce you to the enchanting Bella Swan." My cheeks go red again.

"Oh we've met," he says coolly. He squints at me lifting his sharply defined jaw. "You didn't reply to my text Bella."

"You were expecting a reply?" I shoot back.

_If he only knew what I was doing when he sent that text, _I think, half amused, half horrified. He raises his eyebrow and starts to speak when Joe, the owner of ArtHouse interrupts, apologizing as he pulls Edward away.

"Ha," Sam grins, "I like you Bella. You are the first girl I've seen not falling all over Edward and trying to get in his pants, that is of course with the exception of Rose and her girl-power posse." We move over to the bar for another round of shots. I only take a half shot with the intent of keeping my wits about me, and then we move through the crowd looking for Rose. They are towards the back of the gallery and Lauren is sitting at a desk while Rose is animatedly talking to a handsome man with professor-style glasses and a tailored suit.

"James," Rose turns towards us, "I believe you know Sam and this is my good friend Bella Swan. She works for Carlisle. Bella, James is the publisher of _ArtForum _magazine." My eyes widen, impressed, as I smile warmly at him.

James virtually ignores Sam and steps towards me stretching out his hand. "Bella," he says softly as he slowly shakes my hand. It's almost like a caress but I don't fully trust my judgment due to my IceDragon buzz.

"Hey Bella," Rose says, looking back at me. "Lauren has been up since five, and she has an early shoot again tomorrow. I think we are going to call it a night. Do you want to hang out more or share a cab back with us?" I hesitate since I want to stick with Rose, but I have always wanted to write for _ArtForum_ and who knows when I will have this chance again.

James pipes in "I can get a cab for Bella."

I look up surprised. _He must want to talk to me, _I think excitedly. "That's fine Rose, I'll stay for a while more. And Sam walks her and Lauren out leaving me alone with James. I suddenly feel very awkward. "So Bella," he asks, "what do you do for Carlisle?"

"A little bit of everything," I reply with a smile. "I started out helping in the serigraph studio, but I gradually have been helping in the gallery with clients. I also particularly like working with the artists, assisting them however I can. But my real love is writing, so Carlisle has been having me handle some of the publicity writing, much to the chagrin of his PR agency."

"I can imagine," James says with a low laugh. "But Carlisle must really like your work." He pauses thinking and then speaks again cautiously. "If you're interested, why don't you send me some samples? There may be an opportunity at _ArtForum_, but of course only if Carlisle lets you do freelance. I wouldn't want to upset him: he's an old friend."

"Actually Carlisle encourages me to expand my horizons. He and Esme are both so generous that way." I step sideways to clear space for a waiter to pass. "I always thought _ArtForum_ was in New York?" I ask.

"Well, our parent publisher is there but we've always maintained a West Coast office," he explains. "Then about five years ago I decided for personal reasons, to move to Los Angeles, so they accommodated my relocation although I still end up spending about a week a month in New York."

I decide to change the subject. "Do you like Masens's work?"

"Well, I'd like to hear what you think of it Bella." He is testing me.

"You know, I wasn't a big fan of the subway series he did last year," I respond carefully, "I felt he was trying too hard. But this work really makes me feel strong emotions, and it makes me think about the pieces even after I have walked away. Those are the things that matter most to me while experiencing art."

James nods his head thoughtfully, and I relax a few degrees knowing that I haven't made a complete ass out of myself. I find myself wanting to please him. James is clearly very smart and very clever. We wander from painting to painting as he talks about what he thinks works and doesn't.

James links his arm with mine and pulls me into the third room of the gallery. I feel like someone is watching me, and I look up and see Edward stare at me, then at James, then back to me. He doesn't even smile, and I notice that there are about five art groupies surrounding him. He is holding court with a collection of art whores acting like he's the master of the universe or something. One hands him an IceDragon shot, and he downs it without hesitation. It doesn't appear to be his first.

Edward's angry look is strangely attractive. He is standing tall with tight black jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. I feel the arousal starting between my legs and it pisses me off. _Why, oh why, does he have to be so damn good looking?_ I turn back to James and smile into his intense blue eyes. He looks over to see what I have been watching and he shakes his head.

"Ah Edward," he moans. "I see he's up to his old tricks. The partying, the women, the attention, I've seen this all before with other young artists. Pretty soon they lose their focus and the other stuff becomes more important than their art…and that is the kiss of death in this business."

"I always thought there was more to Edward," he continues, "and that is why I haven't given up on him yet. I've even been working on a joint project with Taschen Press doing a coffee table book about his work, but I'm still not one hundred percent sure we should do it. If he doesn't get a grip, he could be obsolete in a couple of years."

Edward is just sober enough to sense that we are talking about him and he moves towards us. He addresses James first: "So James I see you have met Bella, she's Bella of the Ball tonight," he slurs. I look up alarmed.

"Yes, Edward, Ms. Swan and I are having a delightful time getting acquainted and discussing your work."

"So what is your conclusion," he taunts. "Is it the best fucking work you've ever seen? And don't tell Jean-Michel Basquiat inspired me, 'cause he can kiss my ass too."

"Well, I can't tell him that because he's been dead for over twenty years," James answers disapprovingly. "But I can certainly use that memorable quote when we interview you for the magazine."

"Oh, won't have time to do interviews," Edward says too loudly. "I'll be too busy fucking my numerous art-whores." And he sloppily waves to the girls in the corner.

My heart falls, and inexplicably I feel sorry for Edward as I watch him dig himself in a very deep hole. James and _ArtForum_ together is too important a bridge to burn. Thinking quickly I pull James aside and whisper to him, "I'm so sorry for his behavior James. Rose warned me that Edward got some very bad personal news today and that he's a mess. I'm going to have Sam get him out of here. Can I contact you when I'm back in L.A.?"

James isn't sure he likes the idea of me taking care of drunken Edward, but he pulls his card out of his pocket and hands it to me. "Will you call me tomorrow and let me know everything is all right?" I agree just as Edward starts slurring a string of profanities at us.

I grab his arm as tightly as I can and stepping close, I speak sternly, "Stop it right now Edward. Just keep your mouth shut and I'll get you out of here before you can do any more damage." And I drag him towards the back of the gallery and into the hallway that leads to the back door off the alley. I push him against the wall and give him a long hard look.

"What, what Bella! What in the fuck do you want?" he barks.

"I'm trying to help you asshole. You are just too damn smart and too damn talented to go down in flames. Why would you say that stuff to James of all people? Don't you care about any of this?" and I wave my arms and for some reason I am so frustrated that tears start sliding down my face. The minute Edward notices them he freezes. There is something about the fact that I care enough to cry that shuts him down, and suddenly his body is rigid and his eyes are blank and I'm not even sure he is there anymore.

_That's it, I've got to get him out of here,_ I think panicked. "Okay, Edward, I'm going to take care of this. Promise me you won't move-just stay here." There is no recognition that I have asked him anything, just the blank stare remains, but at least he doesn't move. So I run back into the front and find Sam.

"Sam I need your help," I plead.

"What's up babe? I'm about to leave with Erika-the show is closing up soon anyway. Do you need a ride or something?"

"No it's Edward, he is completely fucked up and I've got to get him back to his hotel. Can you get a cab out front and then bring it around back for Edward and me?" He looks irritated but agrees, and tells his friend he will be back in a few minutes.

_What is it with you and your stupid caretaking tendencies!_ I angrily admonish myself as I quickly retrace my steps through the gallery. _Like Mom wasn't bad enough, now I'm looking out for a crazy artist I barely know. _I'm fairly disgusted with myself.

As I finally rush back into the hallway, I stop dead in my tracks, shocked. One of the art-whores is on her knees in front of Edward and she's moaning and rubbing her hands across his crotch. He is frozen in the same position he was when I left him with the same blank expression, and unbelievably doesn't even seem to be aware of what the skank is doing to him. I gasp loud enough that her head jerks towards me and she gives me the evil eye while licking her lips.

"Back off bitch, he's mine," she warns.

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My shout out in Chapter two was for the fabulous Ms. Kathy. I was blown away by the compilation she pulled together for Haiti relief. I also love the pictures she generously posts via Twitter every week.

Also a shout-out for _High Anxiety_ by EdwardsBloodType. This is one of the first fan fics I followed and it really pulled me in.

I do the happy dance when I get reviews….really!


	4. Chapter 4 Reluctant Savior

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

_**A huge thank you to the talented squarepancake for making me a terrific blinkie this week!**_

_**And thank you so much to those of you that have signed this story up in your favorites and story alerts. Every time one of those notices hits my inbox, I get a thrill.**_

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**Work of Art / Chapter Four / Reluctant Savior**

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I'm gone for what, a fucking minute, and he's already moments away from getting a blowjob. How did this skank even find him? The temptation to spin on my heels and leave the sordid scene as quickly as possible is overwhelming, but I remember that Sam is probably waiting in the alley for us and I resign myself to finish what I started.

I look up at Edward and he still hasn't moved an inch. The blank stare now is even more haunting. I storm down the hallway, around the bitch on her knees, and grab Edward's arm and start pulling him towards the back. Luckily he doesn't resist, and the girl falls back on her ass with the momentum of his movement. I hear the shrill echo of her cursing me as I push him out the back door.

Sam is right there and finishes the motion, pushing Edward right into the cab, swings his legs inside and slams the door shut. I give Sam a kiss on the cheek, whispering my thanks, and run to the other side of the cab and slip inside.

"Where to?" the cabbie questions.

_Shit, where is he staying?_ "Edward what hotel are you at?"

Nothing-I get no response from him, just the empty stare. I push him forward and wedge my hand into the back pocket of his jeans. He doesn't even seem to register that I've just effectively grabbed his ass. But the effort is rewarded as I garnish not just his hotel room key, but the sleeve the front desk presented it in that has the room number written on it. I pull the card out and announce to the driver, "Gramercy Park Hotel please."

When we arrive, I ask the doorman for help getting Edward out of the cab as I pay the fare. I get the impression this isn't the first time he has had to take care of the hotel guests in this way. He gets Edward into the lobby, and luckily Edward is responsive enough to allow me to pull him to the elevators and down the hall to his room. I note that there is a _Do Not Disturb_ sign hanging on his door handle, and I hesitate for a moment wondering what nightmare I am going to have to face when I get him inside. I take a deep breath and swing the door open.

Once inside the room I am initially distracted by the decor, dark red walls and ebony antique wood furniture with heavy dark velvet couches and chairs. _No badly printed hotel art in this place,_ I note. Instead an impressive collection of black and white photography is hung strategically throughout the suite.

Snapping back to the situation at hand, I exhale with relief as I realize that there is no naked woman sprawled across the couch or bed. I lead Edward to the bedroom and push him down until he is sitting on the edge of the bed. He is robotic in his movements and still staring straight ahead. He's really starting to freak me out.

I return to the sitting room get a bottle of water from the bar area, and then fish in my purse for the bottle of aspirin. I open the water and put it up to Edward's lips. "Drink," I command. After he has taken some water, I push two aspirin in his mouth and command him to drink more. He complies but when he is done he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and puts his face in his hands while exhaling a long sigh of despair.

I stand back, wondering what to do next. I decide he needs to sleep so I kneel down on the floor and start to slowly pull off his boots. He doesn't help, but he doesn't stop me either. When I reach up to gently pull off his socks his trance breaks further and he looks down and watches what I am doing. I look into his eyes and all I see is a heartbreaking sadness.

"It's okay," I assure him. "You'll feel better after you rest." I then rise and begin to pull off his turtleneck, realizing that it will be much too hot to sleep in. Peeling the sweater up over his shoulders I look down and my breath catches to see the definition along his chest and abdomen. His body's so beautiful and when I finally get the sweater over his head, his hair is messed up into a mad frenzy forcing me to resist the urge to run my fingers through it. I decide he better sleep in his pants since I'm not going to attempt taking them off-for more than one reason. Our eyes meet again, and there is curiosity mixed in with his sadness.

He watches me as I remove the layers of decorative velvet pillows from the bed before I gently push him back against the remaining linen pillow and lift his feet up onto the bed. I turn on the bedside lamp to the dimmest setting and shut off the overhead light. The room is dark now but for a faint glow from the lamp. I can no longer see the expression on his face.

"Goodnight Edward" I whisper as I turn to leave.

I am halfway into the sitting room before I hear his voice.

"Bella" he calls. I stop and hold my breath. "Bella, Bella," there is more of an urgency to the tone this time.

I step back into the doorway of the bedroom. "Yes, Edward?"

His hand reaches out from under the comforter. "Please don't leave me Bella, please don't leave." There is such agony in his voice. I've never heard anything so sad, a black arrow to my heart. Knowing he needs me to stay is the blessing and the curse.

I stand still for a long time, maybe a minute, my head racing not sure what to do. "Okay Edward," I finally reply. "I'll stay for a while."

"Please sit next to me," he asks as he reaches towards me again. So I pull off my boots and hesitantly climb onto the bed and sit back against the headboard. His back is to me and I can't see his expression, but I can feel his tension.

"Just relax, Edward," I purr encouragingly as I push the covers down a little. And instinctively I run my hand through his hair and down his back and over his broad shoulders. As I repeat the motion over and over, I can feel his body settle bit by bit with each pass of my hand. He is silent for a few minutes but then finally turns just slightly towards me.

"Thank you Bella," he gasps. I notice his voice breaks with emotion. "You're an angel, you're my angel." And moments later I hear his breath fall into a rhythm telling me he is asleep.

I continue to stroke him as he sleeps, realizing that I may never touch him again like this, and I try to get my fill of the feeling of being connected to him. His hair is so soft, I marvel, and in contrast his shoulders so hard. I shake my head in disbelief. _I am in Edward Masen's bed touching him while he sleeps. _What a strange couple of days.

I rest my hand in the middle of his back and feel his heat beneath my fingers. _What happened to him tonight?_ I wonder. One minute he was Mr. Party and the next a wounded soul. It didn't make sense, but I warn myself that this is a side to Edward that I know nothing about. I lift my hand off his back and finally pull away, and then inch-by-inch ease myself off the bed. Luckily he remains sleeping deeply as I tip-toe to the sitting room with my boots in my hand.

I sit for a moment on the couch and realize that I should leave him a note in case he wakes up completely disoriented. I find a pad and pen by the phone and begin writing.

_Dear Edward:_

_I'm not sure how much you will remember, but I brought you back to your room after your show last night. You were pretty out of it and needed help from a friend. I hope you don't mind that I was that person. Anyway, have no concerns-nothing unseemly happened, I just tucked you into bed and left._

_Drink lots of water, and hopefully your hangover won't be too wicked._

_Regards,_

_Bella_

I look up and noticing a sketch lying on the floor and I slowly realize that there are drawings lying all over the room: some on the floor, some scattered across the desk and end tables. I can't believe I had missed seeing them when I came in. _Distracted from the drama_, I conclude.

The drawings have the ragged edges of being quickly torn out of a bound book. I set my pad down and start looking at them more closely. They are all very loose gesture drawings that appear to be of a woman. There are loose sweeps of charcoal across the rough paper, some which is roughly blended. Then layered over are minimal cleaner lines from a dark pencil.

The woman is nude in all the drawings and it feels like the sort of thing done during a life drawing class. They are beautiful in their simplicity. I feel a pang of jealousy for whoever she was that got to pose for Edward here in his room. And with that wave of jealousy comes the resolve to get out of his room and back to my reality.

I go back to my note to Edward and before I tear it from the pad I add a final line before I lay it on his bedside table:

_P.S. I like your drawings very much. Who's the subject?_

. .~*~..

In the morning I head to the exposition to oversee the guys packing up the art. I also go over all the details with the shipping company that is handling getting our crates back to California. It's a relief to know the show is finally over and it's been a success. On my cab ride back to the hotel I ask the cab driver to drop me off in Central Park so I can take a leisurely walk in the brisk air.

As I wander down one of the many paths that wind through the park I watch the nannies pushing their strollers, the old couples sitting on the benches and the young people with their lunch bags and sodas. A middle-aged woman is taking a picture of her daughter standing happily in front of the pond. A gaggle of small school children in uniforms walk past me giggling, their teachers trying to keep them on course. My love for New York City swells up in my chest, and I vow to return again soon, hopefully next time for pleasure only, not work. I start thinking about what I need to do before my flight this evening when I hear my cell's ringtone.

_Call from Edward Masen_.

I am only half-surprised, thinking he may be calling to apologize for last night. Besides I am curious as to how he is doing. I accept the call.

"Hey Edward" I say casually.

"Bella," he sounds relieved that I've answered. "What are you doing?"

"Um, walking in Central Park. Why?"

"I was wondering if we could meet for coffee before you leave. Carlisle mentioned the other day that you guys were flying home tonight," he says carefully.

I'm amazed he's remembered that detail. "Well," I say, trying to be playful to lighten the mood, "I just had some coffee."

"Okay, then tea," he persists. "Where are you in the park? I'll grab a cab and meet you now."

I look around for a landmark, impressed at his determination. "I'll sit on a bench facing the pond at Sixty-First street, just in from Fifth Avenue."

"Okay" he says quickly. "I'll be there in about ten minutes."

I pace for a few minutes, my heart racing and then finally sit on the bench. _What is this about?_ I wonder. He doesn't have to take me to tea-a thank you call would have been sufficient. Each minute feels like an hour until I finally look up to see him exiting a cab up on Fifth Avenue. He strides towards the pond, and he flashes that gorgeous smile when he sees me stand up from the bench. _God he is beautiful, _I marvel, allowing myself one last swoon before I steel myself for what's to come. The only thing I am sure of is that I have absolutely no idea what is going to happen.

"Hi, Bella," he says casually as he approaches me, pushing his hands into his jacket pockets. "You want to walk?"

I nod and we move silently towards the park exit at Fifty-Ninth street and Fifth. The trees are all edged with a brilliant light green as their coats of spring leaves are just starting to break through. I am trying to imagine that this silence isn't awkward, but he gives me a break by finally speaking.

"Thank you for looking out for me last night," he says quietly, looking down at me to see my reaction.

I smile up at him, "Really it was no big deal Edward," but you could have thanked me over the phone you didn't have to come out of your way like this just to thank me."

"I know," he responds. "But I thought we could talk. Is that okay?"

"Okay, sure." And I realize that we are now heading down Fifth Avenue and he seems to have a destination in mind. He rests his hand on my back and leads me into a turn on Fifty-Fifth Street. The fancy doorman at the St. Regis Hotel tips his hat to us as Edward leads us inside the elegant lobby.

"We are having tea here?" I ask puzzled, glad I am at least wearing nice slacks and a tailored jacket.

"Yes, high tea," he responds, "is that all-right?"

I laugh, "Oh, I love high tea, but I wouldn't imagine that would be your style Edward."

"See, one of the many things you don't know about me…I love high tea. I had high tea frequently with my mom, and this was her favorite place to go in New York."

I am stunned. _He is taking me to his mom's favorite place for high tea?_ Why?

The hostess leads us to a low silk-covered settee facing a linen-covered table set up with elegant china and silver. _She must think we are a couple,_ I realize noticing that most of the other tables have traditional dining chairs and higher tables. We sink down into the loveseat with our thighs lightly touching. I open the tasseled menu to choose from a selection of over twenty teas, everything from English Breakfast to exotic Mango Spice.

_Wow, this place is really something._ I look up at the frescoed ceiling with delicate painted cherubs floating in a cloud filled sky, the layers of intricately carved moldings framing each scene. _I could get used to this_, I think happily.

"Does your Mom still come here?" I ask, setting my menu back down.

"No, she passed away." He looks down and shifts the fork on the table.

_Good going Bella, ask him about his dead mother. That would explain why he spoke in the past tense, idiot. _"Oh, I'm so sorry Edward."

"She's been gone for six years, breast cancer," he states calmly right as the waiter approaches, and we are both glad for the distraction.

The waiter takes our order and Edward shifts to face me. "Bella, I want to apologize for last night." He takes a deep breath. "I am pretty horrified about what I put you through."

_Am I going to let him off the hook?_ I decide not to. "You're quite the party-boy Edward, and that's okay I guess, if it's what you want. But I decided to get involved when you started looking like a fool with James from _ArtForum_. It was just feeling like career disaster and I couldn't let that happen to you."

He grimaces. "I guess I deserve the party-boy line." He looks down. "But why did you help me Bella? You don't even know me, not really."

_Because you are the hottest man I have ever spent time with, and I want you to fuck me until I am screaming for mercy._ I swallow and take a deep breath. _Get a grip Bella_, I chastise myself.

"Well," I answer thoughtfully, "as I told you I love working with artists. I just seem to understand them. And I knew you needed help right then. It was my natural instinct."

"I knew it, Bella. I knew it from the moment I met you that you would look out for me one day." He pauses. "Hey, I'd like to be completely frank with you, is that okay?" I am speechless so I nod my head affirmatively.

"I know I'm in a bad place. I've finally achieved the notoriety that I've always wanted in the art world, and it feels so goddamn empty to me. I'm still trying to figure out why. So I party and fuck around way too hard. I know that doesn't make me feel any better, but I just fucking do it because I don't know what to do anymore to feel okay."

Whoa….this is way more information than I expected from the man who went into a trance last night the moment things got edgy. This isn't exactly high tea conversation, but in a way I realize that I'd rather be discussing this here than in a bar. The civility of the tearoom presents a different weight to the conversation.

"Can I ask how much did you drink or use last night?"

"Use?" he asks shaking his head. "No, I don't do the drug thing-left that behind at art school. I saw too many kids completely lose themselves." He runs his fingers through his hair. "But yeah, I had enough shots last night that I don't remember how many."

I remain quiet as the waiter sets up a tiered set of plates full of tiny sandwiches, pastries and scones. He carefully pours out our tea, using silver tea strainers over our china cups.

"Anyway," Edward continues, "the reason I had to talk to you today is that I laid awake all morning and thought about you. I was overwhelmed by the feeling that we were destined to meet right now, at this very point in time…and that somehow you would teach me how to do this right."

"Do what right?" I ask stunned.

"Find my way," he replies stammering, possibly starting to realize how crazy this is sounding. "You know, help me figure out how to be happy in my life."

"And what in the world makes you think I'd have any idea how to give that to you?" looking at him incredulously, "I've got a few issues myself that I still haven't figured out."

"I know Bella, I know…" He wrings his hands. "It sounds crazy, but I just have this feeling about you and it is so strong, so very strong."

"So let me get this straight…we were destined to meet so I could help you deal with your unhappiness of being rich and wildly successful?" I know I'm sounding snarky at this point, but what the hell? "How nice for me Edward? Isn't destiny more two sided than that? What do I get out of this _Mother Teresa helping Edward_ thing?"

Edward's face falls. "I know, I know, what an asshole, right? I just haven't figured that part out yet, but I'm sure there is a way I can help you, Bella. Maybe help you get your writing career established. I know people in publishing."

I sit back stunned. Why in the world does Edward think I hold his answers in my little hands? And even if I am willing to be his supposed savior, how will it work?

"So, since you've had the morning to think about this, maybe you can explain how it will work in practical terms," I say all business-like, as I nibble off one of the little sandwiches. I don't intend on playing with him, but this is more intriguing by the minute.

"Maybe you could come work for me, help me manage my life?" he wonders out loud, looking hopeful.

"I don't think so," I laugh. "First of all, I work for Carlisle and I'm very loyal to him. Secondly, what kind of career move would that be, professional babysitter and life coach for Edward Masen?"

"I suppose when you say it like that it would be crazy for you to do." He frowns. "But promise me you'll think about it, and I will too. There's got to be some way we can help each other."

We polish off the tiny sandwiches and dig into the scones with the clotted cream. There is a pianist in the corner playing _Clair de lune._ I wish I could take pictures of this room and Edward so that I could capture the incongruity of so much masculinity and intensity perched on a silk settee. If I had pictures I could always remember our high tea and know that it really happened, and wasn't just a dream.

When we are done Edward insists on walking me back to my hotel, Le Parker Meridien, which is just a couple blocks away at Fifty-Sixth and Sixth. I need to get up to my room to make the promised call to James and take care of other business before the car picks us up for the airport.

I turn towards him, "Thank you so much for high tea Edward." I smile brightly. "It was so lovely."

"It was my pleasure," he replies smiling.

_Oh I love this gentleman-like side of Edward._

"And Bella, you will think about we talked about, promise?"

And as I nod he opens his arms and pulls me into a hug, and as hugs go, this one's a stand-out. He is holding me, really holding me. I feel so warm and protected, and he isn't letting go.

He tips his head down towards my ear and whispers, "You know, I remember a few things about last night, Bella. I remember you taking off my shoes and sweater then tucking me in. You were so gentle with me. But most of all I remember you staying and running your fingers through my hair to soothe me. I wish I could make you realize how that made me feel Bella, how it was just what I needed at that very moment." And he pulls me even tighter for a moment and gently kisses my forehead before finally letting me go.

I pull back from the hug and look up into his eyes while trying to calm my pounding heart. I want to kiss him with every fiber of my being, but evidently he has determined that I am destined to be his savior, not his lover. So instead I pull away and walk towards the hotel entrance, turning back one last time to smile and give a small wave goodbye.

.

* * *

_**Last chapter had a shout out to JittzPattzing who I love to follow on twitter because of her total devotion to Rob…she represents the best kind of fan.**_

_**I recently started reading The Unaccompanied Soul by JMCullen09 and I am really enjoying the originality and mystery of this story.**_

_**And finally words cannot express my love-not just for the great story, Master of the Universe, but also for its author-the fabulous Snowqueens Icedragon. Icy is incredibly warm and generous with the fans of her work and not only encouraged me to write my story, but she retweets my updates and included Work of Art on her Favorite Story list. Her friendship is one of the great gifts of my Fan Fic experience.**_


	5. Chapter 5 Between Euphoria and Terror

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. Work of Art belongs to me.**

**_Welcome new readers…I'm so glad to have you along for the ride._**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Five / Teetering between Euphoria and Terror**

**.**

Carlisle's in a particularly good mood on the flight back to L.A. probably due to the fact that all but one of Rose's original paintings sold, along with a sizeable number of serigraph prints. He also had a good response to the three other artists he was representing at the show, so it was a hit all the way around.

I am happy for our success but also distracted, thinking about Edward and the way I felt being held in his arms as we said goodbye in New York. To be that close and take in the scent of him, the hardness of his chest in contrast to the soft warmth of his hug, was a feeling that I will linger on, over and over, in the days to come.

But then I force myself in an internal power-point presentation to remember the dark and very real side of Edward: Edward entertaining the art groupies, Edward insulting James, Edward with the art-whore on her knees grabbing his crotch, Edward drunk and broken….all flashing red signs telling me to make a sharp U-turn and head quickly in the opposite direction of this man.

Despite my late flight I'm happy to see my roommate Alice is still up, as she instantly lifts my mood. After I drag my luggage through the apartment we curl up on the couch and I tell her about my time in New York. I purposely leaving out Edward as I want to talk to her about him when I'm not completely exhausted and thinking more clearly.

Alice travels to New York frequently for her design job, so once I tell her the restaurants, museums and galleries I visited, she can picture my time there most vividly. One day, we vow, we will end up in New York at the same time and we'll paint the town red.

Before I finally head to my bedroom, Alice fills me in on the latest drama at her job where she oversees the design of merchandise and packaging for the Disney Princess line. The irony of her position is that Alice is like an oversized Tinkerbell come to life, flittering about and making magic happen effortlessly. But even Tinkerbell has her Captain Hook and it's amazing how nasty people can get fighting over complications with tutu manufacturing and design issues with magic wands.

..~*~..

I sleep in late since Carlisle told me not to come in until after lunch. Wandering into the kitchen I find a note Alice has left next to the coffee maker asking me to join her for dinner so we can catch up more. I put in a load of laundry before heading off to the gallery.

As we get ready for our meeting, Emmett and Esme give me a big welcome back hug but Jacob stands off to the side silently. I sigh in frustration; I am not up for his moodiness today. _What have I done now?_ But just when I'm ready to confront him, Carlisle sweeps in ready to hit the ground running. He's clearly energized by the trip. We go over sales and the follow-up that needs to be accomplished in the following days which includes a lot of printing. Carlisle asks me to finish out the week helping Jacob. _Oh good_, I think sarcastically.

When we get to the print studio I look over the schedule Jacob has posted and start preparing the inks for the first run. He is in the back burning the screens as I unwrap a new ream of archival paper. I love working in the print studio: the smell of the ink, the richness of the colors, the handwork involved when so much of the world is mechanized.

Jacob carries the first screen we are going to run to the front of the shop, and it is perched over his head. I notice he is wearing a tighter tank than usual and his form-fitting faded jeans, making his muscles look particularly defined. Even when I'm steaming mad at him, I have to admit that he has a beautiful body. He is classically defined like Michelangelo's _David_, and his movements have an elegance that make him addicting to watch. He notices I'm looking at him, and it appears to diffuse his anger a bit. He is very proud and undoubtedly likes to be appreciated. It's all part of our love/hate relationship.

As we step into position and start the run, he waits until we have a rhythm going before he addresses me.

"So was the trip good?" he asks with little inflection in his voice.

"Yeah." I reply back, having no intention of making this easy on him.

"Sounds like you sold a lot of art."

"Yup," I reply dully.

"Did you get out much after the show?" His feathers are starting to ruffle.

"We went out a bit" I'm starting to see where this is leading.

"Rose tells me that Masen was quite taken with you." He looks pissed as he says it. For a stoic he's so transparent.

_Bingo! The flashing lights go off in my head. The jealous beast is out of his cage._

"Really?" I reply. "Rose has an active imagination. How would she have deduced _that _considering he was surrounded by art groupies the whole show?" I question, stretching the truth a bit.

"Well, I saw a picture," he offers up carefully.

"Really?" I'm exasperated. "There were lots of pictures Jacob-it was an _art show._ That's what they do, take lots of pictures." I point at him agitated, "Were you stalking me on the internet again?"

He backs down, realizing this isn't going how he'd planned. "I worry about you Bella. You don't realize what you do to guys, and I worry that something's going to happen to you." He says unhappily. "That Masen is an asshole, and I don't want him to take advantage of you."

_You mean that I don't realize what I do to _you, I think, frustrated. "You have to lay off, Jacob. You aren't helping me when you get like this." And I can see that this makes him feel badly. He turns away, his eyes hooded with anger, and I get a profile view of him with his high Native American cheekbones and his smooth caramel skin. Jacob is very good looking in an exotic way, but when he is angry like this he's hot. If I weren't afraid of the intensity of his devotion to me, I would've fucked him a long time ago.

We work quietly the rest of the afternoon, only speaking when we have to give each other specific demands. The tension remains thick between us. As soon as the last print has been pulled off the press, I quickly hang up my apron and head out the door.

.

Alice and I do our monthly splurge and meet at Nobu for sushi, lucky to get the last open table in the crowded restaurant. We check off a variety of rolls and specialties on the little sushi order form and order large sakes to go with our meal. Finally I'm ready to unload.

"Alice, there's this guy…" I start. Her eyes get big since this isn't how I ever start our conversations. And I proceed to tell her about my experience with Edward, the good and the bad, culminating in his nominating me to be his personal savior. She is amused, excited, confused and undecided, all rolled up into one.

"What are you going to do Bella?" she asks, her Tinkerbell eyes searching.

"I have no idea" I reply. "But on the other hand, there may be nothing I can do. It's kind of up to him at this point. I certainly am not going to contact him."

As we discuss various possibilities, I slip in the information of my two makeovers courtesy of Lauren and Edward. This is like giving the addict a hit, and Alice is choking on her spicy tuna roll in excitement. "She actually got you to dress sexy!" she squeals with delight. I have to laugh. "Oh and what I would have given to see your face when Edward unbuttoned your blouse!"

I blush remembering.

"It's a new day Bella!" she announces. It doesn't matter if you ever see Edward again or not, it is time to own your fabulousness."

"Right-e-o Kimora," I laugh, but Alice is looking serious.

"Oh shit," I think, "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea." Alice decides that on Saturday she is taking me lingerie shopping at Agent Provocateur (because feeling sexy is the foundation to finding your inner goddess) and then we will have pedicures. If we have time, she would like me to accompany her to the tattoo parlor. She teasingly suggests it would be a great opportunity for me to have a tattoo done too.

Normally I would run for the hills with this agenda, but Alice is so delighted…and maybe I do need to loosen up a little. So I nod my head affirmatively, with only a moderate amount of dread.

Alice then launches into a blow-by-blow description of a doomed blind date she went on while I was in New York and we laugh hysterically while sharing a serving of green tea ice cream.

When we finally stand up to leave I sway a bit and Alice admonishes me, "I knew you shouldn't have had that second sake Bella, look at you-you look like you are going to fall over. And you know you always have weird dreams when you drink sake."

"I'm just really tired," I whine, waving my arms at her.

As we tumble out the restaurant door to head back to the apartment, a wall of exhaustion hits me. My bed has never looked so good.

.

I'm not sure if it was indeed the sake or the emotional unloading, but that was the night I began dreaming of Edward Masen.

_It is dark, so dark, and I am slowly crawling on the floor through the gallery. The rooms are deserted. I am so low to the ground that I even when I look up, I can't see the paintings clearly. As I move to the back I see someone leaning against the wall but I can't tell who it is and I'm very nervous. As I get closer I realize it is Edward, and he is humming but I can't distinguish the tune. I crawl closer until I'm under him and my fingers start inching up his legs. He doesn't acknowledge me at all, just keeps humming. Even though I have a sense I am dreaming, I can really feel the texture of his jeans under my fingers._

_My hands keep moving up, pressing on his thighs and feeling every tense muscle. Finally I get to his crotch and my fingers press everywhere, but I can't find his cock and I panic not understanding what has happened to it. But then he reaches down and strokes my face with one hand while unzipping his fly with the other. He reaches in and pulls his cock out and it is so big and so hard… how could I have missed it? He lifts my chin and rubs the head against my wet lips. Suddenly instead of the darkness, we are in a painting…something like a Jackson Pollock with paint splattered everywhere, and my mouth is on him, my tongue circling the head, and then sucking him back towards my throat. I repeat this pattern over and over. His humming gets louder and he starts thrusting. I am jolted awake just as I feel his cum hit the back of my throat._

I'm panting, tangled up in my sheets, as I come down from the dream and slowly grasp that I'm in my bed alone. The dream comes back to me in pieces, my stomach churning as I realize that I am the art-whore in the dream. I swallow the bile that is edging up my throat, for even the idea of lowering myself to that level is enough reason for me to never see him again. I look over to my clock and note it is four a.m. I lay curled in a ball and don't sleep another wink until my alarm goes off at six.

..~*~..

Wednesday afternoon Carlisle calls me in from the studio. I sit down in his office and he shares that James had called and asked him if he was comfortable with me taking on a writing project for him. I explain to Carlisle that James and I met at Edward's show and he offered to review my work, but I didn't think anything would come of it. I thought he was just being polite. I'm happy to see that Carlisle not only doesn't mind, but he encourages me to do the work. As long as I do it on my off time, I have his blessing. He pulls off the post-it and hands me James's number telling me to go ahead and use his office to call him. After he gets up to leave for a meeting, I dial the number carefully.

"Is Mr. Alistair available?" I ask his assistant, "Bella Swan calling." There is a short pause.

"Bella!" He sounds happy to hear from me so soon. "I've had a good chat with Carlisle. Since we are colleagues I felt compelled to speak to him before talking to you-and I'm happy to report he was encouraging about the idea of you working on a project for me."

"Yes, he just told me," I concur.

"Well, I'd like to meet in person to discuss it. Are you free for drinks tomorrow evening?"

"Absolutely," I enthuse, wanting him to know that I am excited about the opportunity.

"Okay, meet me at the bar at the Chateau Marmont at six-thirty."

"I'll be there. Thank you James." After we hang up I clap my hands together excitedly. _My first professional writing job for a real client who isn't Carlisle!_ Nothing against Carlisle, but it's a bit like working for my dad. I happily float through the afternoon.

.

The following evening I have to dodge a pack of paparazzi as I pull up to the valet at the Chateau Marmont. _It must suck to be a celebrity _I think as the pack of animals with cameras strapped around their necks wander back and forth just twenty feet from the hotel entrance.

As I pass through the lobby I'm glad that I put extra effort into my appearance. I have a silver silk shirt tucked into grey wool slacks. My hair is down and sleeked back and I'm even wearing high-heel sandals. I certainly look more sophisticated and elegant than I feel inside. James greets me at the entrance to the bar.

Just moments after we are seated James's cells phone rings and he looks at the screen then back at me apologetically, "I'm so sorry, Bella. Can I just take this briefly?" I nod, and he pulls his chair back from the table and turns away, "Yes" he says quietly into the receiver.

"Yes, she's here." Pause, "No, we haven't discussed it yet, we just got here." He is starting to sound frustrated. "Yes, you've made that abundantly clear."

I realize that I shouldn't be listening to him, so I turn away to focus on something else. The bar is almost empty, but it's pretty early for this crowd. In the corner though I notice a striking young couple huddled together. They are both very fair skinned and they are dressed so casually, wearing jeans and hoodies. They are laughing, and he reaches over and kisses her gently. It's like they are in their own bubble, and I feel a pang for that all consuming young love. A vague sense of recognition passes over me but I turn quickly away, respecting their privacy.

Just then James pulls his chair forward, "I'll call you later, but meanwhile I'm turning my phone off," he states firmly. As he shuts his Blackberry down he looks up at me and smiles. "Now where were we?"

We go through the pleasantries of discussing the exposition and he tells me some of his plans for an upcoming issue of _ArtForum_. We both order martinis and after they arrive he finally brings up the project.

"So Bella, do you remember our conversation at Edward's opening in New York, where I mentioned that there was a plan for a coffee table book about his work."

"Yes," I reply cautiously, feeling apprehensive about where this is going.

"Well, after stalling, the project is green lit again and Taschen Press wants it out in time to correspond with his big show in Barcelona early Fall. The scans of the art were complete a while ago, and most of the layout is complete, but the copy needs to be done." He looks at me with a smile."And that is where you come in."

"Me?" I'm confused. "Don't get me wrong Mr. Alistair…"

"Oh Bella, please call me James," he interrupts.

"Well James, I would love more than anything to work with you and write for ArtForum, or any other publication you see fit. But write the copy for a coffee table book? That seems rather ambitious for me."

My mind is reeling. "I mean, don't get me wrong.." I pause, thinking. "This is a huge opportunity…" Part of me is getting excited even though I know I shouldn't be. "It would be a dream come true."

He leans forward, with his elbow on the table, and rests his chin in his hand. The intensity of his look is unnerving.

"Can I ask one question James?" His eyebrows shoot up as if he knows what I am going to say. "Why me?"

"Well, I have to be honest with you Bella, I have my reservations as well. This is a big undertaking, and it is an important job. But you were requested by the artist."

"Edward." I take a sharp breath to steady myself.

"Let me correct myself," he responds. "He didn't request you-he insisted on you. He said it was the only way he would let the book be published."

"Why on earth would he do that?" I ask baffled.

"Exactly what I would like to know," James agrees. "I hope you don't mind Bella, but in this unusual situation I have to ask this question. Are you intimately involved with Edward?"

"No!" I answer, "We barely know each other." James looks relieved, and I see another look in his eyes that seems to be about something else other than Edward. He leans back in his chair.

"Well, that's good. I'm sure you can understand why that would be a problem. Edward's very volatile, and what if you broke up in the middle of the project?"

"No worries there," I assure him.

"Good. I will say Bella, that Edward has always had a particular point of view about this book that does make his recommendation of you relevant and possibly very strategic. He knows a large portion of his collector base is younger people, newer to the art market. Consequently, he wants his book to have a young, fresh point of view. As you must know, so many of the art books are written by long-time academics who tend to pontificate to sound impressive."

I smile broadly in silent agreement. "Well, that's encouraging to hear. I will definitely be young and fresh." I respond smiling.

"Okay then, let's proceed. Here is the number for Edward's agent, Jasper. You can call him about arranging a meeting to discuss the project. You should do this as soon as possible. I'm sure you realize that the hardest part of this project will be managing the artist. And that is not easy with Edward, not in any regard.

"Meanwhile our lawyer will contact you in the morning with an agreement. And my assistant will set up a time to have you come by the office to go over technical issues: layouts, word count, facts that must be covered, etc."

This is all happening so fast. I'm teetering between euphoria and terror.

James looks over me and smiles, "If this goes well, Bella, there will be all kinds of opportunities for you." He rests his hand over mine and I'm immediately uncomfortable. What type of opportunities is he referring to?

We get up to leave just as the bar is filling up, and head out to the valet. Right before my car pulls up he steps closer to me and takes my hand. "You know Bella, I'm really looking forward to getting to know you better," and he gives me the look before kissing me lightly on each cheek.

"Thank you for the drink, James, and thank you for the opportunity," I smile, but I'm shaken because I feel like he has intentions that have nothing to do with publishing.

.. ~*~..

The next day I step outside the studio three times with my phone before I finally have the nerve to call Edward. I know James asked me to contact Jasper, but I need to get a sense of what is going on with Edward before we meet. The only way to accomplish that is to talk to him directly.

He picks up the phone after two rings. "Bella," he says happily. "It's good to hear from you."

_Smooth,_ I think. _Let's all pretend I'm not the pawn in this game you're playing._

"Hey, Edward," I say trying to sound as casual as possible. "I met with James last night and he asked me if I would write the copy for your art book. That's a pretty amazing offer for an inexperienced writer."

"You haven't changed your mind, have you? James said you were a little nervous about it." He's the one sounding nervous now.

"No, I'm excited about it, and of course flattered, but I just can't imagine why you think I'm the right person for this? I'm sure that there are hundreds of writers in the art world far more qualified than me."

"But they won't be you Bella. Remember all the things I said at tea, how I have a feeling about you…that we were destined to meet somehow and help each other? And remember how I wanted us to work together? I never stopped thinking about that and then the book issue came up again, and it was all so clear to me. Here's our chance!"

I have to steel myself, because the sheer joy in his voice, the conviction that destiny has pushed us together, is seductive in the most dangerous way to me. _Remember the dream, remember the dream _I chant to myself. The image that flashes into my mind of me on my knees in the darkened gallery is sobering. I try another tack.

"But Edward, what if I screw it up? What if it sucks? I'm not even a published writer. You don't want to be embarrassed like that."

"Bella, I'd never let that happen," he says carefully. "Surely you know how important this project is to me. I wouldn't want either of us to look bad.

"Look," he jumps in before I can give another excuse. "Don't make up your mind now. Let's meet and talk about it. At least give it a try-get your feet wet. And then if it doesn't seem to be working, we will move on."

"You promise Edward?" I implore. "You promise that if it's going badly, and I suck, that you will let me walk away."

"I promise," he says solemnly.

Somewhere inside, I don't fully believe that he will let me walk away that easily, especially if he knows my heart is holding me there.

We agree to meet for lunch at his home on Sunday, and he assures me that he will talk to Jasper to update him after we hang up. I copy down the land-line phone number at his house and the address, which is on Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu. Suddenly I am a bit uncomfortable with the idea of two against one, and I ask if I can bring my roommate Alice. I mention that she is a designer and always has an interesting viewpoint.

I'm relieved when he agrees, as I find comfort in the idea that Alice can try to get a read on Edward. I clearly have lost my objectivity with this man, and Alice will protect me if I'm stumbling down a murky road with no sense of how to get home again.

.

* * *

_**My shout out in Chapter 4 was for The Blessing and the Curse by the Black Arrow. Let me tell you, girlfriend can write...pure poetry. And this Edward, and his lifelong obsession with Bella, is one you will never forget.**_


	6. Chapter 6 Follow the Yellow Brick Road

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

I have taken great delight while writing to incorporate shout-outs to my favorite bloggers, twitter gals, fan fic stories and authors into the writing. There will be at least one in every chapter. I have done this in the spirit of gratitude and reverence, and I sincerely hope it is taken that way. Let me know via reviews if you catch them and share my favorites too!

This chapter is dedicated to KStew411 who unknowingly indoctrinated me into the wild world of Twilight fanfic. Their constant support and mention of fanfics is what made me realize that world even existed. I can safely say this story would have never seen the light of day without them.

Thank you to my beta TwilightZoner...

.

* * *

**Work of Art / Chapter Six / Follow the Yellow Brick Road **

Bright and early Saturday morning, Alice jumps on my bed, having trouble containing her excitement for the day ahead. After coffee and bagels, we head over to the Salon RoseSee for our pedicures. There is nothing like having a small woman play with my toes, to put me in a good mood. Alice has polka dots painted on top of her pedicure, but I go for a solid blood red. My pale white feet have never looked so exotic.

We hang out in the salon for a while so our toenails can dry, since Alice refuses to be seen in the real world wearing flip flops and little rubber strips between her toes. When it is finally safe to put our sandals back on, we head outside and do a little window shopping before stopping at lingerie nirvana: Agent Provocateur. This store is more minimal in its presentation: darker, kinkier and way more expensive then Victoria's Secret. Once I've adjusted to the shock of hundred dollar panties, I am able to appreciate the intricate detailing in the gorgeous lingerie. Alice convinces me that the real fun is trying things on. So we pick out a number of outfits, and head to the dressing rooms.

I peel off my jeans and t-shirt, and then my simple cotton panties and bra. When everything is folded on the velvet chaise, I look at my reflection. I realize that I haven't seen myself naked in a full length mirror for a while. I run my hands over my hips and up my ribs, then cup my full breasts. I often get compliments on my figure, and as I look at myself I acknowledge that with my long legs, flat stomach, curvy hips and full breasts, I do look pretty good. I take the first bra off the hanger. It's an intricate design of satin with lace insets, and as I pull it on it pushes my breasts up and out, making my cleavage look even fuller then it already is. The matching panties sit high on my hips, and the lavender color is beautiful against my fair skin. I can't help wondering what Edward would think of this outfit. Would he pull me against his hungry body with a groan, and slowly unhook the bra, and slide the panties down?

"Hey Alice," I call over the dressing room wall. "What is the point on spending so much money on lingerie? Anything that looks this good is going to instantly come off. If you know what I mean."

"That isn't the point, Bella," she says patiently. "The goal today is to get _you_ to feel sexy and beautiful. When you wear stuff like this you feel different. I swear it's true. And of course, once you finally realize what a goddess you are, the men will naturally follow."

"Oh okay, " I respond. As I turn in the mirror and study how the lavender lace sits perfectly along the curve of my ass, I have to admit that I'm feeling pretty damn sexy.

Next I try on the black lace ensemble with the tiny hot pink bows. _Hello porn star!_ I giggle. This outfit has a garter belt, and I imagine how wicked I would look with black stockings and spike heeled shoes. The bra for this outfit is cut so low that my nipples peek out over the tops of the cups. As I turn to study my reflection, my mind wanders and again I try to imagine what Edward would think, if he were here. My breath hitches, for this looks like the type of outfit that would inspire him to bend me over the chaise lounge and take me from behind. I close my eyes and imagine the feeling of him pumping in and out of me. One hand is on my ass and the other reaching around and fondling my breast, and pinching my nipple. Suddenly investing in expensive lingerie makes perfect fiscal sense to me. I feel the hot wetness start to pool between my legs. I decide I better get a grip before trying on anything else.

I've saved the virginal outfit for last. As I fasten the last hook on the corset, I realize that my skin is almost as light as the white satin. So the overall effect is ethereal. I imagine I'm stretched out on satin sheet in a canopy bed, surrounded by sheer white curtains. My hair is fanned across the pillow. l look over at a bare-chested Edward as he stands beside the bed, unzipping his jeans, with a fierce look in his eyes. _Oh my_. I'm going to need a cold shower after this shopping trip.

Alice calls over that she will meet me at the register, and I snap back to reality. I reconsider this white outfit but determine that it's a little wedding-nightish for me. I decide on the lavender bra and panties, as I pull my clothes back on.

A wave of buyer's remorse hits me as soon as I've signed the credit card slip. I have no business spending this kind of money on underwear, but I try to rationalize it, remembering the bonus Carlisle gave me from the art show. Besides I'm usually pretty careful with my money. I've managed to avoid dipping too much into my portion of my dad's insurance money. In the last five years since I received it, I have only spent some on my car, my laptop, and some of the stuff for the apartment.

With our purchases complete, we get in the car, because our last stop is a couple of miles away. "Where to now?" I ask my noble leader. I've agreed to accompany her to the tattoo parlor, but I know it is highly unlikely that I will join her in getting myself inked.

"Ok," she responds brightly. "The tattoo place is called Clipped Wings and Inked Armor and it is at 84 Delaney Street. It's in that little cluster of shops right off Sunset, near Doheny." When we arrive, Alice introduces me to Hunter, who has been working on her tattoo: a little Tinkerbell on the upper right side of her back shoulder. Alice has an extremely low tolerance for pain, so she has been having it done in three stages. Today's session should finish it up.

I pull up a nearby chair to watch the procedure. Hunter is intriguing looking: tattoos running up both muscular arms, across his shoulders, and up his neck. He also has multiple piercings in his ears, mouth and eyebrows. His face is strikingly handsome, framed by a shock of black hair. Although I have never been much for tattoos, this guy is unbelievably sexy. Alice looks over at me checking him out, and gives me a wink. I can see why she chose Hunter to mark her. He is very serious about his work too, and it's amusing to watch this big intimidating guy illustrate a delicate Tinkerbell on Alice's shoulder. I imagine Walt Disney would be rolling in his grave.

Alice is immersed in the 'dealing with pain' zone, so thankfully she forgets to harass me about getting a tattoo. I'm not ready for that kind of commitment, especially since I have no idea what I would do or where I would put it. After Hunter finishes up, we head out, deciding to stop at the Kings Road Café to get a late lunch. We are about halfway through our salads when Rose and her posse stroll by.

"Hey Rose," I call out. She grins and walks over, sweeping me in a big hug.

"Hey, Alice." She turns nodding her head. "What's shaking, ladies?"

"We're having a girlie day." I reply smiling as I stick out my foot and wiggle my toes while holding up my Agent Provocateur bag.

"Cool," she says, then turns to her friends to instruct them, "go on in and get a table. I'll be right there." She slides into the empty seat next to me.

"So, Lucy you got some 'splaining to do," She quips, giving me a stern look. "I heard from Carlisle that James from _ArtForum_ hired you to write Edward's book. Is that true?" She gives me the Rose look, and I shrink a little.

"Isn't it exciting!" Tinkerbell chimes in.

"Well that depends," Rose replies then pauses, considering carefully what she wants to say. "It depends on expectations."

I look at her nervously and ask, "Can you elaborate?"

"Look Bella, we both know you can do this, and you'll do a great job while you are at it. But how much of this is about James and Edward wanting to get into your pants?"

"Rose," Alice groans, "this isn't helping her confidence with her writing."

She's right. I feel the sting like I've been slapped hard. I try to prop myself back up again. "Well Rose, even if that were true, and I don't think that's the case, I can handle myself. I'm not going to do anything I don't want to do," I explain.

Rose watches me carefully.

"And the project is a great opportunity and challenge. Should I really turn it down without seeing how it plays out a little first?"

"Not a bad point," she agrees. "Okay, I'm going to go join my friends. But let me know if anyone steps out of line. I will be happy to kick their ass for you." She pronounces as she shakes her fist playfully and smiles. "Ciao, Ladies, give me a call next week and let's go out for a drink." She moves to join her friends in the café.

The next day, Alice and I decide to leave for Malibu by eleven-thirty in case we hit traffic. Alice is wearing white capri pants with a halter top that shows off her new tattoo, while I wear my new lavender lingerie under my sundress with sandals. I put the top down on my convertible, so we can soak in the glorious Southern California sun.

We get off the 101 freeway at Malibu Canyon, and wind our way through the hills, until we finally are rewarded with a view of the spectacular coastline. It's a different world at the beach, and the clean air lifts my spirits. Following Edward's directions we pass Zuma beach, and turn into a driveway just off the highway. We pull up to a large gate, and I reach over to a mounted silver box holding an intricate keypad of letters and numbers. I pull out my notes and carefully punch in *KS411. With a grand gesture, the tall emerald green gates magically part. Alice and I giggle, feeling as if we have been transported to Oz. We break into an enthusiastic round of _'Follow the Yellow Brick Road,'_ performed in munchkin voices as we pull through the soaring gates, and head down towards the ocean. Halfway down the hill, we stop singing, and are awed into silence.

"Wow," Alice finally gasps, "I can't believe this. He lives in paradise!"

I nod my head in agreement, quietly taking it all in, realizing that I really didn't need another reason to be infatuated with this guy. _Damn him, why does he have to be a man-whore?_ We get to the bottom of the hill and there are four houses in a row facing the ocean. Edward's is on the far left, and set the furthest apart from the other homes.

My nervousness really kicks in as we walk down a short path, and through two large wooden doors. The portal opens to an incredible garden, complete with a koi pond and waterfall. There is a velvet green lawn that is edged on all sides by clusters of lacey ferns, and wild lavender. There are fig trees and rambling rose bushes, and dozens of exotic plants I've never even heard of. The entire garden is surrounded by a tall stone wall, that has fuchsia and apricot colored bougainvilleas, crawling along its edges. There is no order or symmetry, just lushness, which only adds to its beauty.

"Wow," Alice says again. Even she is looking a little overwhelmed.

As we approach the front door we realize it is wide open. We gingerly stick our heads in looking for our host.

"Hello," I call out, and after a few moments, Edward rounds the corner drying his hands on a dishrag. He throws it over his shoulder as he approaches us. _Oh my God, he looks delectable_, I swoon. He has gotten some color since returning from New York, and it is set off by his white linen shirt. His sleeves are rolled up, and he is wearing faded jeans and bare feet looking like Mr. California casual.

"Bella," he says stepping forward, and kissing me lightly on the cheek. "And you must be Alice." He says, reaching out warmly to shake her hand. "Thanks for coming all the way out to the beach. I'm glad you're here."

Alice nods, star-struck. I try to speak to Alice telepathically, or at least with a look. _Close your mouth girl, you are friggin gawking at him. _But Edward doesn't seem to notice her mouth hanging open, as he is already looking back at me.

"Come on in and say hi to Jasper," Edward coaxes. "Hopefully he is off the phone by now."

After we join Jasper in the living room, Edward heads back into the kitchen to finish preparing lunch. He insists that he doesn't need any help. _And the man-whore cooks too….damn it all! _ I am beside myself, so grateful for the distraction of talking to Jasper. The last and only time Jasper and I met was when I defended Edward against him at the show, so I know I have work ahead of me to get on his good side. Luckily, he seems naturally good-natured, and not holding a grudge. He takes Alice and I out to the patio to look at the view. There is a small steep hill from the end of the property, to where the beach begins, then only a narrow strip of sand with the waves crashing just beyond, so the sound of the ocean is very clear even inside the house.

The breeze is whipping my hair around my face, and it feels glorious. When you look out to where the water meets the sky, you can't believe the vast magnificence of the ocean. It must be incredible to live here, right on the edge of the earth.

Edward beckons us inside and we sit around a table that faces out to the view. He carries over plates of linguini with grilled salmon, in a butter, lemon and caper sauce. There is also a bowl with a mixed salad, and a fresh loaf of French bread. Jasper meanwhile helps with the wine, and he pours us all a glass of crisp Pinot Grigio. The Dave Matthews Band is on the stereo, echoing through the large room.

Alice has regained her bearings, and is entertaining us with stories about product design gone bad and corporate shenanigans. Between the Winnie the Pooh teapot that accidentally exploded when you put hot water in it, to her office mate who was escorted out by security last week for spending hours 'researching' hard-core porn on the Disney computers during office hours, Alice has a way of making everything comical, and much more entertaining, than it probably was.

When we are done with lunch, Alice and I carry out the plates, while Edward makes coffee and Jasper brings out the cookies. We agree that it is time to talk about the project. Edward starts by explaining the general idea for the book: the specs are for twenty to twenty-five pages of copy that will be spread throughout the book. The work is being organized by the early years/influences to the initial notoriety, when Edward became accepted as an important emerging artist and then finally a commentary on where he is now, and what the future might be. Obviously the work is going to require a lot of research and interviews.

"So Bella," Jasper asks, once Edward is finished. "I'd love to read some of the books or articles you have written. Which would you recommend first?"

"Um," I stammer, looking up nervously. "I've never been officially published before."

He looks at me with a blank stare, which then shifts to confusion. "I don't understand. What do you mean, you've never been published?" he says, looking horrified.

"No, I haven't," I admit. It seems pointless to lie about it. He would find out soon enough anyway.

He turns to Edward and states, "You told me she was perfect for this Edward. What the hell are you doing? Is this some type of joke?" He pushes his chair back angrily before speaking again. "Don't you realize how important this is, not just for you, but for us, and everything the gallery has worked for?"

Edward is angry now too. "She _is _perfect for this Jasper," he snaps.

And before I can hear Jasper's response, I am out of my seat, and on the way to the bathroom, hoping they can't see the tears of frustration starting down my face. By the time I get to the bathroom I am shaking and really angry. _Why has Edward done this to me? Why has he put me in this horrible position to be ridiculed and questioned? He has to know, this will only get worse._

I take deep breaths, willing myself to calm down before splashing cold water on my face. When I am finally calm again, I gather up my nerve to go back to the table, and tell them that my part in the project is over. Deep in my heart, I know that Jasper is right. They need a professional to write this story, not a neophyte with a full time job.

But when I open the door, Edward is leaning on the wall of the hallway waiting for me. His somber eyes meet mine, and he takes in my expression of defeat. "Come on," he says reaching out, and lightly touching my shoulder. "Let's take a walk."

I silently follow him out the side door, through the security gate, and then down the stone steps to the beach. We silently walk up to the shore, and let the water wash over our feet. We stand there for a couple of minutes not saying anything, just looking out to the horizon.

I finally turn towards Edward and speak. "You know what I'm going to say."

"No, Bella, you can't let Jasper get to you. He is so fucking wound up about the book that everything aggravates him."

"Edward, I was so flattered, really flattered that you asked me to do this. But I let reason get away from me. It was a crazy idea. And as happy as I was to think it could work, I'm realizing I'm in over my head. I think it's time to let it go, so you can find a real writer, who will do a brilliant job for you."

I watch his face fall. His reaction gets to me more than I would have anticipated. "You can't give up, Bella I need you. I need you to do this for me," he says, looking like he's in pain. I fight this natural inclination to soothe and take care of him, and instead focus on the words.

"What do you mean, _You need me, Edward_?" I say, shaking my head. "You don't even know me."

He turns to face me and he grabs onto my forearms before reminding me, "I told you, Bella it's just a sense I have. Nothing has ever felt more certain to me, you are going to help me, you are good for me."

"Ahhhh," I groan in frustration, and I start walking down the beach. He follows along beside me. "It's this _savior_ thing again, Edward. It's crazy. Can't you see that I'm no one's savior? I'm just an ordinary girl….a completely ordinary girl."

"Bella damn it, "he grumbles, pulling on his hair with both hands, in frustration. "Why can't you see that there is nothing ordinary about you?"

We walk another length of the beach, both deep in thought, until we reach a point where the jagged rock landscape prohibits us from walking further. A gust of wind off the ocean blows my skirt up revealing my lavender finery. I see Edward notice, but he doesn't say anything, as much as I'd like to know what he is thinking. Embarrassed, I smooth my skirt down and we sit in the sand.

"It's such a beautiful day," I say softly, attempting to lighten the mood and change the subject. He looks over at me. "How long have you lived here anyway?" I ask.

He pauses for a minute, trying to change gears before he answers, "My parents bought this house when I was a baby. My mom got it in the divorce. The irony was that we didn't spend a lot of time here when I was growing up. Mom didn't like the kids in Malibu, thought they were all drug addicts and incredibly entitled, and she didn't want them to influence me. So we lived in the city, and just spend occasional weekends here. When she passed away six years ago, she left me the house, and so I built the studio addition, and have lived here since."

"Wow, what an incredible place to work and live." I respond, smiling at him. "But does it get lonely being so far away from the city?"

"Sometimes," he admits. "But most of the time I prefer solitude." He looks up towards the house and states, "we better get back. They must be wondering what happened to us."

But when we step back into the house, we find Alice and Jasper on the couch having an animated conversation. They don't even seem to notice we are back. I watch Alice with curiosity. _She's flirting with Jasper_, and it seems to be working. Well at least the day wasn't a total wash.

When it's time to leave Edward walks us to the car. He leans over my door. "Will you do something for me Bella?" he asks with hopeful eyes.

"What is that?"

"Come with me to Hennessey and Ingalls next week?"

"You mean that art bookstore in Santa Monica?"

"Yes. Let's just look through some books on other artists, and talk some more before you make up your mind," he proposes. He is giving me _the look_, that damn look, that is almost impossible to turn down.

"It's only fair Bella," Alice eggs me on. "At least see what Edward wants to show you."

_Thank you dearest friend, for throwing me under the bus._ I give her the evil eye.

He takes a step back, and pushes his sleeves up his sculpted arms. My eyes wander up from his bare feet, over his worn jeans, his broad shoulders and handsome face-over six feet of masculine perfection A breeze from the ocean hits him, and he turns his face sideways. His perfect silhouette is back-lit from the sinking sun. _Ahhhhh._

I feel doused in flames and all I want at this very moment has nothing to do with writing. I am burning for him, and what I really want is to be up on that deck straddling Edward, feeling him all the way inside of me, his hands on my breasts and the ocean breeze at my back. I don't want to be his savior, nor his biographer, I just want to fuck him, and I hate myself realizing that doesn't make me any better than any of his art whores.

"Ok, I'll go to the bookstore!" I state, exasperated.

Edward smiles happily at us, offering a wave as he backs further away from the car. He thinks he has won, but the game hasn't even begun.

.

* * *

My shout out from the last chapter is undoubtedly the most difficult to spot. It's a simple title for a fantastic story. Reading _'The Office'_ is an experience I could have again and again, and never tire of. Angry sex has never been so compelling. The passion this Edward and Bella has for each other leaps off the page. There's no wonder it's on so many favorites lists.

_**Press review…..I'd love to hear your thoughts….**_


	7. Chapter 7 Well, How Did I Get Here?

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

I have taken great delight while writing to incorporate shout-outs to my favorite bloggers, twitter gals, fan fic stories and authors into the writing. There will be at least one in every chapter. I have done this in the spirit of gratitude and reverence, and I sincerely hope it is taken that way. Let me know via reviews if you catch them and share my favorites too!

Thank you, TwilightZoner my beta who always makes me look good. Thank you readers, I appreciate each and every one of you.

.

* * *

**Work of Art / Chapter Seven / Well, How Did I Get Here?**

"Bella!" Emmett booms as soon as I step into the gallery Monday morning. I have to laugh. Everything with Emmett is big: his stature, his voice, his personality. "You gotta see this." He waves me over to his laptop and points to the screen. "Look, I finally got it, my fifteen minutes of fame!" He laughs loudly.

I lower myself to the screen and see a photograph of Emmett with one arm around artist Jeff Koons and the other around a guy with silver hair that I don't recognize. In one corner of the background I see Leonardo DeCapprio with some Amazonian model, and in the other corner Jennifer Garner sneering at the guy with the silver hair.

"Was this at the Prada opening last night?"

"Yup!" he exclaims. "Everyone was there."

Emmett travels in some pretty hip circles.

"And who is this?" I ask pointing to the silver haired guy he has his arm around.

"His name is Ted-he works for E-Online-does a gossip column or something like that." Emmett is grinning.

"And..." I taunt him smiling.

"Yeah, and I'm seeing him tonight."

"Cool," I laugh, then pointing to Jennifer Garner. "Just don't let her know about it. She looks pissed at him! Where are you guys going?"

"Well, he has a movie premier he has to cover, but we are going to meet at the Abbey afterwards." He grins, looking very pleased with himself.

"Ok, I want to hear all about it tomorrow."

"You'll be the first to know," he assures me. It warms my heart to see Emmett happy. He hasn't been himself since his last boyfriend Tom broke up with him and moved back to England late last year.

Emmett is the big brother I always wanted. He always watches out for me, but it isn't just that. He is the reason I work for the Cullens, and the reason I kept my sanity when I first arrived in L.A. seven years ago, with no money and a broken spirit. And in turn, I would do anything for him.

We go over some business issues including a schedule conflict with some installations. There are two clients Thursday afternoon with tricky set-ups, and Emmett asks if I can oversee the one in Bel Air while he takes care of the Weitz's in the Hollywood Hills. I note all the information and he agrees to let the client know in case I need some type of security clearance to be in their house.

I head over to the print studio and find Jacob trimming prints. "Hey, what's up?" I call out to him as I pull out a stool. I'm in a good mood and decide to share the joy with Jacob.

"Embry Call is coming by to sign prints today, so we need to get these ready to ship as soon as he's done. Do you want to number them?" I'm relieved to see he is in a better mood today too. Pulling out the edition notes, white gloves and several pencils. I take the prints he has trimmed and carefully number each in the lower left corner, under the image.

Jacob never likes to do this part because he says I have better handwriting. That's fine with me because I like to do it and have my hands on the art. That must explain why I like to work on the press as well. He always kids me about fondling the art a lot. I guess I love it that much.

"Hey, Jacob," I call over to him. "Where's the music!" He smiles and heads over to the iPod dock, and picks something out and cranks the volume up. _The Talking Heads_ blast through the speakers.

_You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack_

_You may find yourself in another part of the world_

_You may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile_

_You may find yourself in a beautiful house with a beautiful wife_

_And you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?_

And we are both singing loudly, laughing, and dancing around the studio. After this last tense week of travel and uncertainty, it feels so great to just be free, shaking my ass, and laughing while Jacob shakes his.

When the song is over Jacob turns down the music and pulls out his leather messenger bag. As he is reaching inside he smiles. "I almost forgot, I got you a present while you were gone."

"You got me a present," I tease. "Shouldn't I be the one giving you a present, you know, a souvenir from my travels."

"Well, this is better than a silly shot glass or refrigerator magnet. I went to a bookstore to get it."

"You in a bookstore!" I jest, although there is some truth in my teasing, as Jacob isn't known for his interest in reading.

He hands me a small rectangular package wrapped in brown craft paper. On the front he has written my name out carefully in Gothic style lettering.

I peel off the paper and gasp, "Oh, it's John Ashberry's new book of poetry. You know how much I love him!" He is grinning ear to ear as he takes the book back out of my hand and opens it up to the title page and then hands it back to me.

"But look, he signed it for you. I told him about you and showed him your picture, and he signed it just for you."

I look down at the title page, _For the Beautiful Bella, keep reading, keep writing…all the best, John Ashberry._ My eyes tear up.

"How..." I begin to ask.

"I read in L.A. Weekly that he was doing a signing at Book Soup, so I went after work and waited in line to meet him 'cause I remember you saying that you wished you could go but you couldn't be there because of your trip. I know this isn't meeting him, but the next best thing. And here look," He flips the back to the cover page, where he has written_, To Bella, my favorite writer. Love, Jacob._

I look up at him, his face glowing because he knows how much this means to me. A tear slides down my cheek, but it's a happy tear as I soak in his kindness. Deep down, Jacob has the biggest heart, and I love him for it. I take a step forward and wrap my arms around him, resting my cheek against his chest. I can hear his heart pounding.

We stay like that for a minute, and as I finally pull back I can tell he doesn't want me to step away. "Thank you Jacob," I whisper, "that is the best present ever." He looks at me like he wants to kiss me, and part of me wishes that I wanted that, that I wanted him, because he is so good, and he wants to take care of me in the sweetest most protective way. I don't know what's wrong with me that I can't accept the love of someone so good. He starts to pull me close again, but just then we hear Embry and Carlisle's voices as they head down the hallway towards us. We quickly step apart and focus back on the prints Embry is here to sign.

By Wednesday all of my experiences in New York, and even my Sunday in Malibu feel like a million years ago. So I am surprised mid-morning when I receive a text from Edward.

"Still good to meet at the bookstore?"

So he hasn't forgotten our meeting, but his text feels ambivalent or maybe formal.

_Maybe I'm reading too much into things_, I think_….I do that a lot._

_Well hello to you too Mr. Congenial_. Two can play this short and sweet message game.

"Yes" I text back

"6:30?"

"Yes"

"Hennessey & Ingalls, 214 Wilshire between 2nd & 3rd, I'll be in the back"

"Okay" I snap my phone closed. That's the shortest text I've ever sent. _But what do you expect? This is a business arrangement. That was a business text._ I remind myself that a professional demeanor would probably be a smart way to approach our meeting this evening. I got distracted by him and all his gorgeousness in Malibu, but I'm determined to regain my focus.

As I pass through the doors at Hennessey and Ingalls, a wave of delight pours over me to be in the presence of so many wonderful art and design books. I could hang out here all day, and I note that I should do just that, the next time I have a chunk of free time.

Edward is in the back as promised, already surrounded by several piles of books, and he is completely engrossed in one. He doesn't even notice when I walk up to the table.

"Hey Edward," I say quietly.

He doesn't look up at me, instead waves me over to see the page he is transfixed on. "Look at this book about Gerhard Richter" he says with awe in his voice. "Man, I'd love to hang out with him for a few days."

Edward appears so comfortable I get the impression that he spends a lot of time here. I also remember seeing piles of books all over his house, so he must be a good customer as well.

He finally looks up and smiles, then pulls the chair out next to him and pats it for me to come sit down. "Hey Bella, I pulled a bunch of books for you to look at."

I pull the one off the top and examine the cover, _Jeff Koons._ I smile remembering Emmett's photo from the opening last night. I open it up and study the table of contents before I start alternating between reading and skimming the copy. Before moving on to the next book, I look over at him. "How long have you been here anyway?" I ask.

"I don't know, a few hours," he replies. "I always lose track of time when I'm here."

We remain quiet for another twenty minutes, and I've almost gone through the first pile when he finally speaks up. "I think this Francis Bacon book is good. I like the Jackson Pollock one too. Of course that guy was a lot more interesting and colorful than I'll ever be."

I laugh. "Well, let's hope so. He didn't have a very happy ending."

Edward looks at me thoughtfully. I wonder if the art-whores he hangs out with actually know anything about art.

"I guess it's up to you how you want to be perceived. It's your book after all." I suggest. "I know it's not my job to do a critical analysis of your work, my job is to tell your story."

"Hmmm, _my_ story." He gives me a big smile. "Hey let's get out of here, you want to grab something to eat?"

"Sure." I grin back at him. "Let me just pay for these two books."

But he sweeps them out of my hands. "I'll get them for you. Shopping here is my retail therapy. Hmmm, Kenny Scharf and Roy Lichtenstein, interesting choices."

"Yeah, well I like how the writing was handled. I want to study them in more detail."

After he pays, we wander towards the promenade and decide on a nearby Thai restaurant. We are seated in the big picture window. After the waitress brings over our bottles of Thai beer, we order Tom Kai Kai soup, spring rolls, and pad Thai noodles.

We start out talking about his experience four years ago of being chosen for the Whitney Biannual at such a young age. His eyes light up when he talks about it. Clearly it was a very exciting time in his life. I pull out my small notebook to take notes while we are talking, and he looks part amused and somewhat impressed by my actions. I have specific questions I intend to get answers for, and so I begin.

"Why did you come back to Los Angeles when you were done with art school? Don't you think New York is the home base for any contemporary artist aspiring to the elite level in the art world?"

"Yes, I did think that for a long time," he agrees, tipping his head sideways in thought. "I lived there my first few years after school. But around that time more and more cutting edge artists were setting up shop in L.A. I eventually came to see that Los Angeles is the city of the future. Anything new is embraced here, and that was the spirit I wanted I my art. You can't fight new here-you are spurred on to go with it, to live it."

I scribble onto my pad furiously. _He's good at this stuff; it just rolls out of him._

We are almost done with dinner when a couple strolling by the restaurant notice Edward in the picture window, and stop and point at him. The guy makes a silly face. Edward laughs and motions for them to come inside.

"You must know them," I observe.

"Yeah, it's Gianna and Aro, they are old friends."

They approach our table and both give Edward a hug before immediately asking what he's been up too, how his work is coming along and so forth. It's clear they are ahead of us on the buzz patrol, and have had a few drinks already.

The woman, turns to Edward and hits him on the shoulder. "Edward, don't be rude-introduce us to your date."

Edward looks over at me like he has just realized that I am still here. "Oh no," he says a little loud for my taste. "Bella isn't my date. We are working together, she is helping me with my book."

My heart sinks, but I immediately recover, irritated with myself for even feeling that way. "Yes, I'd never date_ him_," I say playfully making a face, as I reach out to shake their hands. Edward looks over at me and I can't read his expression. Maybe he isn't used to girls not fawning all over him.

"Well I can't blame you," the woman agrees, "the way he cats around I'd never know where his tail had been last." She crinkles her nose in distaste. "That gets old pretty quickly."

"Speaking of which," Aro turns to Edward, "we ran into Irina last night and she asked about you. She's back in town, and she looked pretty hot." Gianna elbows him.

"Owww," he groans, "Babe, you know it's true, and when Edward and Irina hung together the last time she was in town, they were in bed more than out of it. You guys must have set some world records."

Edward looks down. Is he embarrassed? I hope so because I am feeling disgusted right now.

"I think she got new implants." Gianna rolls her eyes. "Her tits looked even bigger, if that is possible."

_How lovely_. I try to cover my smirk by taking another sip of beer.

"Well if you think of it, text me her number," Edward requests. "I tried to call her recently and her number had been changed. Maybe we can all get together."

At this point the wallflower thing is no longer working for me, so I excuse myself to go make a pretend phone call. I step outside and the cool air is soothing on my burning face. Waves of nausea roll through me, what the fuck is wrong with me, that I am attracted to this ass, this man-whore who apparently will fuck anything in a skirt…except for me?

_Except me_, and that is the crux of the matter.

He doesn't seem the slightest bit attracted to me, and considering his lack of discretion with women in general, it's starting to bruise my ego. A girl wants to be desired, even if she has no intention of following through with it.

I look in the picture window and see Edward's friends are starting to leave, so I press my phone back to my cheek and pretend to be talking while I watch them walk away from the restaurant. I feel like an idiot reciting _twinkle, twinkle, little star_ into my phone, and then I notice Edward observing me through the window. _Fuck, he better not be a lip reader._ I say a pretend goodbye to my pretend little friend in the phone and head back inside. The waitress has just delivered two fresh beers.

"So who's this Irina?" I can't seem to help myself.

"Oh, just a girl I see once in a while. We met at one of Aro's party a couple of years ago, but she lives up north so I don't see her often." He takes a long swig of his beer.

"I've been wondering, how much of this whoring around do you want me to put in the book?"

He looks surprised and then pissed. "Whoring?"

"You know, this parade of women you seem to have following you." I look down and draw some swirls on my pad.

"Just because I don't follow convention, pretending to date just to get laid, doesn't mean I'm whoring. Anyone who is with me knows that there are no strings attached, so it's not whoring," he states again with more vigor.

_Yeah, it pretty much is,_ I smirk.

"Well what about you Bella," using the distraction technique. "Do you have a boyfriend, or do you just sleep around?"

"How about neither?" I fold my arms over my chest.

"What ?" He looks amused now. "Are you trying to tell me that you pitch for Rose's team, that you're an official member of the Girl Power Posse?"

_Such a man, of course he would go there._ "No I just prefer to be intimate with someone that I'm really into, and I just haven't met anyone that has earned that distinction for a while." _Why am I even having this conversation with him?_

"So…." he presses on, "you want to be in love, hear the violins and get cupid's arrow up your ass."

"So romantic, really." I take several gulps of beer which is helping me feel bold. "But a girl can dream can't she?" I look into his eyes. "I just hate that empty feeling after meaningless sex. I mean really, don't you?"

He looks at me, looks down , and then back at me. "I guess I always feel kind of empty. I'm used to it. I'm not even sure if I could feel anything else?"

"But haven't you ever been in love?"

His eyes cloud over and I see the memory play out painfully across his face. "Well, I thought I was in love once. It became everything to me, and when it was gone, it just about killed me. Now I'm inclined to wonder if it really wasn't love, maybe it was an obsession, but I'm not sure that made it hurt any less when it was over."

For the first time since I'd met Edward, I felt sorry for him. Although I was too closed off to allow myself to fall in love, it seems that he didn't even know how to, and that just felt worse to me.

He must have cast some magical spell over me, because my resistance to the book project has waned. As we part that night I agree to work on a preliminary outline for the book to be completed by the end of next week. At that point we will set up a time to meet again. I drive home deep in thought, so by the time I get into our apartment I am ready to spill. Thankfully Alice is at her desk in the living room working, and I know I will be able to interrupt her for some girl talk.

"Hey Alice, what are you working on?" I ask as I head over to her computer. She has little jeweled crowns and flowers all over her computer screen and she is moving them around.

"I'm trying to finish this pattern for princess pajamas. We have a presentation tomorrow and my designer Erin went home sick." She looks over at me. "How did the thing go with Edward?"

I flop down on the couch. "Okay I guess. I found some good books to reference, and got some ideas while I looked through others."

"How did you guys get along? It's pretty late, did you go get dinner or something?"

I proceed to tell her about our conversation, including the additional man-whore evidence, all topped off by his revealing his inability to get emotionally close to anyone.

"Well it sounds like red flag time." She shakes her head. "It's a good thing you guys aren't dating.

"Yeah, good thing," I reply, not sounding entirely convincing.

"Besides you need to focus on getting this project done. It will give you guys a chance to get to know each other better. If anything else evolves later, then so be it. I would just be really careful." She sounds pretty wise for Tinkerbell.

"Jasper called me today," she shares, looking at me to gauge my reaction.

"Really?" I grin widely at her. "And what pray tell does he want?"

"He needs to visit a gallery in Santa Barbara, so we are going to drive up there together on Saturday and make a day of it."

"You have a date with Jasper?" I ask incredulously. "How did this happen?"

"We just hit it off at Edward's Sunday," she enthuses. "And then he called me Monday night and we talked on the phone for almost three hours. He is the greatest guy, and we like so many of the same things, it's eerie."

"That is cool Alice, I'm so happy for you." I give her a big hug and excuse myself as she has to get back to work, and I want to get some work done too. I need a distraction. As happy as I am to see Alice find a potential love connection, there is the selfish part of me that wallows in the idea that I may never find that for myself.

I carry the two new art books to my room and flip open my laptop on the bed. I pull open the Lichtenstein book and study some of the paintings before opening up the Internet connection. My fingers twitch as I hesitate, then surrender: Google search-"Edward Masen artist."

The page fills up with entries. I read a number of articles and reviews about Edward. Most of the analysis of his work is favorable. Where things get dicey is revealed in his antics away from the studio.

One review from the previous year in the _New Yorker_ summed up succinctly what others had tried to say.

_Masen's work is thoughtful and uniquely his, unlike many of his peers who try to seduce us with derivative work. Yet at times Masen seems more interested in being notorious then developing himself as a serious artist. Only time will tell if he can rise to the opportunity his talent has bestowed upon him, or be consumed by the partying and narcissism that threatens to establish him as the Paris Hilton of the art world._

_Ouch_, I think cringing_._

Next I click on the image gallery. Most of the shots are from gallery openings and parties. In almost every shot he has his arm around an attractive woman and seldom is the same one seen more than once. In one photograph he is with a young actress I recognize from previews I have seen. They both have drinks in their hands and are laughing as she leans into him. I enlarge the image and study his face, wishing I could step inside his head and understand what he really thinks of all this, understand why he has chosen to live his life this way.

Finally I decide to look at the image gallery of his paintings to clear my mind of all that I have just seen and read. The first work that comes up, _Beyond Twilight_ is completely abstract with waves of color that bleed from light to dark and back again. It is an emotional painting, dark yet hopeful. This painting reminds me why I want to do this book, and do a good job while I am at it. And later the emotion of _Beyond Twilight_ is the last thing I think about in that brief moment between wake and sleep.

.

* * *

Last chapter I had shout-outs to three of my favorite women of Twitter and blogs:

delaneyg84, the insider with class who always reports with care and love for R and K. As a big Robsten fan I love following her on twitter.

RoseSee, the passionate fan who continuously holds up the torch trying to light the way, even when things get very dark. I always love her blog.

Again, KStew411-and not just because I love Kristen, but because they demonstrate the positive side of what it means to be a fan.

Of course it would have been impossible to miss my shout out to Clipped Wings and Inked Armor and the amazing HunterHunting. I loved this story so much. Even through the angst, this Bella and Edward loved and took care of each other in a way that totally warmed my heart.

Talking Heads _Once in a Lifetime_ © EG MUSIC INC;WB MUSIC CORP.;INDEX MUSIC


	8. Chapter 8 Move Along

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Hold on gang….things are going to get tense…

* * *

**Work of Art / Chapter Eight / Move Along **

Carlisle calls me into his office after I arrive at work Thursday morning. "So how are things going with Edward's book?" He stands up behind his prized Mies van der Rohe desk and moves over towards a pair of black leather chairs, and motions for me to sit down.

"Well honestly, I still feel overwhelmed about the whole thing and worry that I am in way over my head." I tip my head down then look back up at him. "But all I can do at this point is try. I'm working on an outline, and as I break it down into smaller parts it becomes a little more manageable."

"Bella, I have complete confidence that you are not just going to be able to do this, but you will do a great job." He beams at me. "If I was a betting man, I would always bet on you."

I want to run over and hug him. He is so dad-like, so good to me. "That means a lot, thank you." I give him a big smile.

"And Edward," he fishes, "is he behaving himself?"

"Yes, he is a perfect gentleman to me-apparently not to the rest of the female population-but he has been very professional."

"Glad to hear it." Carlisle nods his head approvingly. "Just let me know if he acts up in any way."

When I step out of Carlisle's office Emmett is ready to meet about the installation I'm overseeing today. The clients, the Meyers, are major collectors and philanthropists and Mr. Meyer is on the board at the Museum of Modern Art in New York where they have donated many works over the years. They always like to bring the work of young artists into their home to keep their collection updated.

Mrs. Meyer is expecting us at two p.m. and it shouldn't take long, but the clients seem to like it if you make a big production out of the hanging of the art. Of course, everything has to be handled with the upmost professionalism.

At ten to two I drive my car up the Meyer's winding driveway with Mike and Eric in the van behind me. Emmett had explained to me ahead of time that this home was designed by Paul Williams a black architect who broke many racial barriers to design some of L.A.'s most elegant homes. This particular house is in the Hollywood Regency style and has sweeping views of the city. We walk up the grand entrance and Mrs. Meyer's assistant meets us at the door, then we wait in the marble floored foyer. I look to my right and there is a Jeff Koons' large silver dog balloon sculpture and several feet behind it hangs a Jackson Pollack drip painting. I have never seen a Pollock anywhere but in a museum, and I am stunned. As Mrs. Meyer approaches us I am struck by her elegance. Tall and regal, her sleek silver hair is worn in an angular style, and she's dressed in a black cashmere sweater and charcoal narrow slacks. Her only jewelry besides her massive diamond ring, are her architectural earrings.

After introductions she leads us to the game room, which is more casual then the rest of the house. The plan is to hang Rose's painting above the carved Italian fireplace. While Mike and Eric get to work, Mrs. Meyers and I begin to chat.

"So Bella," she asks in a kind voice, "what do you think of Rose's work? Do you get to deal with her directly in your job at the gallery?"

"Well," I have to admit, "Rose is one of my best friends so I am extremely biased, but I am a big fan of her work. To me she is a modern day impressionist, but instead of painting ballet dancers and girls in the garden like Degas and Renoir, she captures the people in our daily landscape."

Mrs. Meyers nods, encouraging me on.

"She is a great person too," I add. "We had a show for her in New York last week and a number of her friends from her years at Pratt were there. They all talked about her with great affection."

"Yes, that's right she went to Pratt," Mrs. Meyers comments. "Have any of Rose's classmates done as well as she has?"

"I'm not exactly certain, but the only one that really stands out, in terms of success, is Edward Masen. They are still friends."

"Yes, Masen," she answers thoughtfully. "We bought one of his pieces a couple of years ago. I still love it, but my husband is over him, so I had to move it to my study."

"Really?" I ask. "Why does your husband not care for his work any longer?"

"It's not his work, it's his attitude. My husband was standing next to him at an opening a month ago and overheard him trashing the Museum of Modern Art in New York, and my husband is on the board. It's really so unfortunate, because Paul had been encouraging the curator to include Masen's work in an upcoming show called Urban Legend. He would have only been one of two artists thirty or under included. It could have been pivotal for his career. They are making the final decision in the morning, but I am certain that Stephan is against Masen being in the show and he has a tremendous influence."

"Oh no," I gasp, shaking my head.

"Do you know him personally," she asks me, her curiosity peaked.

"Yes, we are friends," I say, stretching the truth a bit, "and I'm actually writing the text for a major book that Taschen is doing about Edward."

"Taschen, really?" I can see she is impressed.

My stomach is churning as I know that in this moment I have the possibility to help Edward in a very important way, but to do so requires more lies and well-executed manipulation than I may be capable of. Yet the next words come out of my mouth so easily and smoothly, I even surprise myself.

"Actually I spent time with Edward in New York last week and we went to MOMA to see the Bauhaus exhibit. He told me it was his life's dream to have one of his paintings exhibited there." I was on a roll. I took a deep breath and continued, "I believe Rose told me about that incident your husband overheard. Edward had a crisis that day and there were a series of events that led to those comments that actually had nothing to do with MOMA, but he didn't know it at that time. I only wish there was a way for him to explain it to your husband."

She looked over at Rose's painting deep in thought. "Well, you really seem to believe in Masen. Am I correct?" she asks carefully.

"Yes, I do Mrs. Meyer. He is unbelievably talented, he lives for his art, and he highly values his place in the art community."

"Well, let me talk to Stephan and see if he is willing to speak with Edward. If so, I will text you with his number and a time to call."

I thank her repeatedly as I write my number down. I just desperately hope that I have done the right thing.

On the way out the door I tell Eric and Mike that I need to stop and make a phone call, and that I will meet them back at the gallery. From the side of the road I dial Edward's cel phone. Unfortunately he doesn't pick up so I leave him a message.

"Hey Edward, it's Bella. I have something important to talk with you about as soon as possible so please call me back as soon as you can. Thanks." I hang up disappointed that he didn't pick up the call.

I have a lot to do when I get back to the gallery, but when an hour has passed without a call back from Edward, I get nervous. I call again and leave another message. A few minutes later my ringtone tells me that I have received a text message. But when I look down I see it isn't Edward, but a 310 number. I flip open my phone to read:

_Hello Bella, Stephan has agreed to talk to Edward. We have a dinner event, so Edward needs to call 310/933-6560 exactly at 10pm tonight. Best, Stella_

My heart nearly jumps out of my chest. I text back,

_Mrs. Meyer, I will let him know. Thank you so much for your help. Regards, Bella_

After I hit send, I flip through my phone contacts looking for Edward's home number, which I remember entering before we drove out to Malibu. When I get his answering machine, I break out into a cold sweat. What if he is on a plane, or in a double feature movie with his phone turned off, or somewhere else unreachable? It's already 5pm. I pick up my phone again and call Alice. Thank God she picks up.

"Hey Bella, what's up?"

"Hi Alice, look I've got a bit of an emergency, and I need to reach Edward but he isn't picking up either phone. Can I get Jasper's number from you? Maybe he knows how to reach him?"

"Emergency, what's wrong Bella?" She's very concerned.

"Oh, it is nothing to do with me Alice, don't worry, I'm fine," I reassure her, "but he is kind of screwed if I don't get him this message." So she gives me Jasper's number and I immediately dial him. He also picks up so now I'm hoping my luck is changing.

"Hi Jasper. This is Bella, Alice's friend."

"Hey, Bella," he says warmly. "What can I do for you?"

"Well I really need to get a hold of Edward right away and so far he hasn't answered either his cell or home phone. Is he with you by chance?" I cross my fingers, holding my breath for his answer.

"Nope, he's not with me, is this something I can help you with?"

"No, but thanks Jasper, I really need to talk to him."

"Well, when I spoke with him this morning he was going to be painting all day today. When he works he doesn't like to be disturbed so he doesn't answer the phone. He will take a break eventually and then I'm sure he will get your messages."

I thank him and hang up, not feeling very reassured. I decide to text Edward as back-up and I use all shouty caps.

_EDWARD PLEASE CALL ME ASAP-VERY IMPORTANT!_

By the time I pull out of the parking lot to head home I'm a nervous wreck, and I almost run into a cyclist despite the fact that he's wearing a neon yellow jersey. He yells at me, waving his fist and I sink down into my car seat.

When I get home I pace the living room for about fifteen minutes before I try to call him again. As the phone rings I chant in my head, Answer, answer, answer, damn it!

_Why did I do this, if I had just kept my damn mouth shut, I could be sitting on the patio right now with a glass of Pinot Noir._ I get his machine again.

So, feeling out of options, I get back in my car and head to the freeway. It's going to be a long drive to Malibu and God knows how Mr. 'doesn't like to be interrupted' will feel about my crashing his work session.

Six-thirty on a Thursday night is a very, very bad time to try to drive to Malibu. The 101 is a parking lot and I'm having fantasies of doing a Thelma and Louise and gunning it through the empty stall lane. I turn on the stereo and crank it up to take my mind off things. _Move Along_ from the All American Rejects is playing, and as I sing at the top of my lungs, the words give me strength.

_Speak to me_

_When all you got to keep it strong_

_Is move along, move along_

_Like I know you do_

_And even when your hope is strong _

_Move along move along, just to make it through_

Still my apprehension lingers, so at eight, when I finally pull up to Edward's house, it is taking everything I have not to turn around and leave. For a moment I seriously consider the possibility. He doesn't know yet what the issue is. Yes, I left a bunch of messages, but I could just make something else up for what they were about. But then what if this situation with MOMA ever got back to him? He would never forgive me knowing there was a chance to salvage it. I slowly climb out of my car and face his house.

As I get closer I notice a structure to the far left of the house, and the large windows are lit, the door is wide open and the music of _Linkin Park_ is blasting out into the garden. I assume that this is probably his studio, and I move towards it, the dread of seeing him is slowly strangling me.

I get to the open doorway and look in. I look to the left first and note the high ceilings with wooden beams crossing the room. The feeling is opposite of Rose's clutter filled fantasia studio, instead there is a calmness to the interior that belies the aggressive music pounding against the terracotta washed walls. My eye catches movement, and shifts straight ahead.

Edward is working on a large canvas that is leaning on the wall opposite the door. His back is to me and he has a brush in his right hand, and a silver can with paint drips in the other. But these are just extraneous details-what I am really fixated on is the man himself. He is a vision in faded jeans and white T-shirt splattered with paint, messy hair, and bare feet. And he's oozing with the most intoxicating energy I've ever felt.

I am frozen in place. His gestures as he works are wide and sweeping, the brush dipped in the can and then stroked across the canvas. He does it again and again, so sure of each movement, each stroke a decision that takes the art a specific direction.

I am not sure what I would have imagined, but it is captivating watching this man at work in his creative element.

He is working with a brilliant orange, but there are already areas of a verdant green, warm white and a deep sienna laid out on the painting. At one point he drops the brush and uses his hands to make gestures in the paint that is already resting on the canvas. When he is done stroking and blending, he wipes his hands on a rag. Despite my panic and fear, I am aroused watching him, and I want to be the canvas with his hands moving over me, stroking and blending-his work of art.

Finally I gather my nerve and call out to him. But with the loud music, my voice is but a whisper and he shows no sign of having heard me. I try again louder, and then finally on the third try I yell his name, and he turns around.

As soon as our eyes meet I step forward, and the look in his eyes terrifies me. He is instantly full of rage. He yells at me, "Stop!" and I freeze with fear.

"What in the hell do you think you are doing?**"** he roars. He slams his hand on a remote and the music suddenly shuts off. The silence is deafening.

I step forward once more, "I'm sorry to interrupt you Edward, I just have some….."

"FUCKING STOP! NO ONE COMES IN MY STUDIO…NO ONE!"

I am shocked, his anger a wall of fire. I take three steps back from the burn until I am just outside the door-frame. "Edward I came over…if I could just explain," I stutter.

He interrupts, "Why did you need to come here? Couldn't you have just left me a message and not interrupt my work?" He shakes his head furiously. "Fuck, Bella, what makes you think you can just drop by?"

"I've tried all afternoon to reach you, and you weren't answering any of your messages." I am feeling a combination of rage and tears building in me, not sure which will explode out of me first. My chest is heaving now, and I can feel my cheeks burning and my back arched like a cat about to fight.

He shoves his hands in his hair and pulls hard as he groans loudly.

My fury wins over the tears. "Do you think I fucking wanted to drive all the over here in rush hour traffic Edward? Do you think I would even consider doing that, interrupting you in your home, unless I had an extremely good reason?"

Now that I have hold of my anger, the release is starting to feel good. Hating him is feeling good as well.

"But no, I fucking stepped foot in your studio, how dare I do that! Like I have any fucking ideas about your rules." I fold my arms across my chest angrily. "Here is the situation, and listen carefully, because I am only going to describe it once." I take a deep breath and give him the evil eye.

"Today I oversaw an installation at the Meyers in Bel Air. You may have heard of them, they are major collectors. So Mrs. Meyer and I start talking about Rose, and your name happens to come up. She tells me that they had purchased a painting of yours a couple of years ago, but her husband made her take it down recently. So I ask her why, and she tells me that her husband overheard you at a party totally trashing MOMA. And guess what genius? Stephan Meyer is not only on the Board of Directors at MOMA, but he had just convinced them to include some of your work in an important upcoming exhibition." I watch the fury on Edward's face turn to shock.

"So you see where this is going Edward? While you were probably drunk and entertaining your art-whores with your big opinions you were also brilliantly flame-torching your chance to not just be in a career defining exhibition, but ever having your work in MOMA."

I pause for a moment, drop my purse on the ground, then bend down to riffle through the contents finally pulling out a small pad, pen and my cell phone. I slide open my phone and start rolling through my text messages. I can hear Edward's heavy labored breathing, but otherwise we are cloaked in silence.

"Because I am an idiot, and thought we were friends, and I would do anything to help a friend, I lied for you, Edward. I told Mrs. Meyer that you had a crisis that day that you weren't in your right mind, and had made a series of comments that actually had nothing to do with MOMA, and if there was any way you could explain it to Mr. Meyer it would mean the world to you." I look at him to gauge his reaction, and his eyes have a faraway look like he is searching the recesses of his mind to remember what he may have slurred at that opening. "I told her how great you are, how much you love MOMA and about the Taschen book we are working on. She finally agreed to talk to her husband on your behalf. I heard back from her, and you are a lucky bastard, because he agreed to talk to you."

I copy the information from Stella's text on the pad and tear out the paper. "I don't know how you fix this Edward, what kind of dance you will have to do, but the one thing I believed then….and I guess I still do, is that you have to try. Here is Mr. Meyer's phone number. He had agreed to speak with you at 10pm tonight, exactly at ten. They are making the final decision tomorrow morning."

I look around trying to figure out my exit strategy, as I hold the paper in my hand. Finally I take one more step back and then set the note on the ground in front of me. "Since I am not allowed to step foot in your studio, I will leave this note here. I sure as hell hope you make that call Edward so I don't feel like a bigger fool than I already do." And with that I pivot around and march across his yard and out the gate.

My hands are shaking as I buckle myself in. I keep glancing up to see if he is going to come after me. I take a deep breath to calm down and wait a few long moments before I slowly start my car, turn it car around, and head back up the driveway. I glance back in my rearview mirror at his gate noting for the last time, that it is still empty.

On the drive back home I begin second-guessing myself. I can't recall ever exploding like that. Was I justified in being that angry? But then I remember he yelled at me first and I get furious all over again.

Alice is waiting for me when I get home and I tell her the story from start to finish. But since exhaustion is now having its way with me, I leave out some of my dramatic flourishes at the end. By the time I'm done she shakes her head. "If you wrote that shit in a story people would make fun of it because they would say it's too unbelievable!"

"Do you think I was wrong Alice?" I ask, my eyes and mouth turned down with worry. "Do you think I should have kept my mouth shut in the first place?"

"No," she answers sympathetically. "You did the right thing Bella. Jasper talks a lot about Edward, and he's told me that Edward lives and breathes art. He says Edward is the real deal and has the potential to really leave his mark in the art world." She pauses, twisting her earring in thought. "I also think once Edward gets over the shock of being surprised in his studio, he will know how profound your help was and he will be very grateful."

I roll my eyes. "I highly doubt that Alice. You should have seen him."

I put on my pjs and too worn out to fix a real dinner, I cut up an apple, put cheddar cheese slices on a plate and pour myself a big glass of wine. I put on _Blue_, my favorite Joni Mitchell album, and curl up on the couch and wallow. _Am I going to have to quit the book project?_ I have to consider it now that our friendship stepped on a land mine. _Ugh…just when it was all starting to come together._

As the wine relaxes me I start to drift off, waking up when my head snaps forward. I pull myself up to go to bed, and glance over at the clock: ten p.m. exactly. I feel a surge of panic, mixed with breathtaking curiosity. Can Edward fix what is broken?

Despite all the hell I went through for him, what I may have given up with the effort, there is a part of me that sincerely hopes he can.

* * *

I had a shout out last chapter for Retail Therapy. I have really enjoyed this story. It's a believable premise and Bella and Edward have such a sweet relationship.

Beyond Twilight by Oliviamk1218 was one of the first fanfics I read. It is the story of Rob and Kristen's romance and is a must-read for any Robsten fan.

As for my other shout out…..I know, I know….not only did I make Emmett gay, but I paired him up with Ted C. from E Online last chapter. I can't help it, I'm a nervy broad and I'm hooked on The Awful Truth.

Thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review Work of Art-I really value your opinions. If you haven't left a review yet, I'd truly love to hear from you…..


	9. Chapter 9  On Gossamer Wings

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

My Beta TwilightZoner is wonderful. We have to give her props for putting up with a writer who likes to post frequently…I keep her busy!

There was a lot of speculation whether Edward would make the call, and make things up to Bella…..the wait is over….here you go………….

* * *

**Work of Art / Chapter Nine / On Gossamer Wings **

The line at Starbucks is precariously long, but I am going to need a venti cappuccino to get through this morning. I glare at the chatty barista who is moving way too slow, and keep glancing at my watch to determine if I'm going to make it to work on time or not. There is nothing worse than rolling in late holding a cup of Starbucks, absolute evidence that you could have been on time if you hadn't fed your hard earned dollar to the corporate coffee machine.

While I wait for my drink my text prompt goes off. It's from Edward. I was seriously wondering if I would ever hear from him again. I slide open my phone.

_I need to talk to you. I'm not going to be ok until I can explain things to you._

Completely unsatisfied with his message I reply,

_I, I, I… Definition: narcissist, egocentric, love of one's self_

I hit send. My phone rings only seconds later. I don't answer, not trusting my snarky filter until I've had at least some of my coffee. I'm not even inspired to listen to the voicemail that chimes a minute later.

Luckily Emmett is in a great mood, due to dates two nights in a row with the fabulous Ted, so he graciously gives me mindless busywork after I stumble into the gallery. As I input collectors' names into the new database, my phone rings again, and I see it is Edward. _Now the ass knows how it feels not to be able to reach someone when you have something to say_, I smirk.

But the rest of the afternoon my phone remains quiet, and I descend into a very dark mood. I still haven't resolved if I am going to quit working on Edward's book, and I have to decide because James' office keeps calling to set up our meeting. I head home not even happy it's the weekend and turn on The Cure's _Disintegration_ very loud while I change into my sweats. I flop on the couch and finally listen to Edward's voicemail from this morning.

"_Bella, fuck, I didn't mean my text to sound like that. I just really need to talk to you. I didn't sleep at all last night thinking about what happened, what you did for me, and how mad you are. I just want to explain and make things better. Please, can't we have lunch or talk or something? I'll wait to hear from you. Okay, call me please."_

I listen to the message two more times trying to figure out how it makes me feel. I am so confused. And then Alice bursts in the door, takes one look at me and stomps her foot down. "Oh no, missy…it's Friday friggin' night! I'm not allowing you to do this _goddess of angst_ thing tonight. Now you go in there, take off those sweats and put on something sharp. We are going out."

I roll my eyes at her. "Do I look like I want to go out, Alice?"

"That's the point, Bella, this isn't about want. It's need. You can't let what happened with _art boy_ do this to you, then he wins."

She's starting to make sense. "So, where would we go if hypothetically we went out?"

"You know my friend Calliope? We went to high school together. She's doing stand-up at the Comedy Store tonight, and she reserved tickets for me."

"Wow, the Comedy Store, that's impressive." "Yeah, well remember how I told you about her tweet site, CalliopeBlabs, where she makes up these little stories about that hot young couple from the vampire movies? Yeah, well thousands of people have been following her, and the guy that books the shows heard about it and gave her a shot a few months ago, and they loved her. She keeps playing to bigger crowds. She's a riot."

Comedy sounds good--just what I need--so I get my ass off the couch and change. I put on my new True Religion jeans, black high-heeled boots, and a fitted black top before we head out. Jasper is working an event but will join us later for drinks. The show is a riot, and I tell Alice that Calliope was even better then the guy she opened for. It just felt great to laugh and forget about everything in the world outside the club.

We meet Jasper at _the House of Blues_ for drinks. He is a member of their _Foundation Room,_ so we get to sit in the private area surrounded by the most wonderful Outsider Art and the lush colors and lighting of the eclectic Moroccan theme. The walls are a dark cobalt blue, and there is a patchwork of worn Asian rugs on the floors. There are low leather couches with carved wooden tables. Intricately etched Moroccan lanterns hang at different heights all over the ceilings. Alice is so happy to see Jasper that she practically sits on his lap, and he looks equally smitten.

"So, Bella," he asks after kissing Alice's neck, "what did you do to Edward? He's been completely wacked out all day." Alice jabs him in the arm.

"What did I do to Edward?" I raise my eyebrows in wonder. "It's more like what did he do to me. I was just trying to help him with something Jasper, and he went all postal on me."

"Well, whatever you said or did really got to him. I've never seen him like this." He laughed. "As a matter of fact, when he heard I was joining you guys tonight he insisted on coming with me, but I refused to tell him where we were going."

"Well, thanks for that Jasper. I'm not ready to talk to him yet."

He nods, thinking. "I just hope you work it out soon. He has a lot to get done, and I hate seeing him like this." He twists his hands together in thought.

"Bella, I know Edward can be an ass, but at the core, his very core, he is a really good guy. If I were ever in trouble, he is the first person I would call. I know he would take care of me. The trappings of his art-world success give the appearance that he's a shallow ass, but there is more depth to him than anyone else I know."

I quietly watch his face and realize the sincerity of his words. "Well, Edward is lucky to have a friend like you, Jasper."

"And I him," he replies before we move on to talk about Jasper and Alice's trip to Santa Barbara in the morning.

It is late when Alice and I meander up the stairs to our apartment, and my breath catches when we get to the top. There is an extraordinary flower arrangement waiting for us. It's an explosion of color, hot and pale pinks, flaming oranges and soft peaches. The exotic flowers spill out of a tall glass cylinder vase that is lined with strips of bamboo tied together with sea grass. The whole effect is breathtaking. Alice moans, assuming it is for her. But when we open the card it says simply_, Bella,_ _Can I start by saying thank you? Edward_

Alice gives me _the look_. I carry the flowers into our dining table, a little overwhelmed by the gesture. I can feel my burnt edges softening both with Edward's efforts and the things Jasper told me earlier. By morning I'm tempted to call him, although I'm not quite ready yet.

I decide to take a long walk on the beach and head out to Santa Monica. It's another glorious day, vivid blue sky and hot sun tempered with a cool breeze. I take off my jogging shoes and wiggle my toes into the wet sand as I walk along the waterfront. While I'm walking, the question that plagues me is _what do I want?_ I can call Edward and we can easily make up and agree to be pleasant with each other then finish work on the book. But is that enough for me at this point?

What do I want when I lay awake in bed at night imagining him on top of me? He is filling me up and whispering my name while his hands caress me, and his lips burn a path from my breasts to my lips and back again.

And what do I want when I know that his phone directory is filled with the kind of women I look down on in disgust. They are women with little aspiration but to win him for a night, yet I admire them for their unwavering confidence in the power of their sexuality. And then I hate him for subscribing to their agenda.

By the time I head back to my car I am even more confused, and I decide to zone out and watch a movie. I make a sandwich and decide it's time for a Darcy fix. I pull out my well worn copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ starring Matthew MacFadyen and Kiera Knightley._Oh why oh why can't I just find me a Darcy?_

I never get tired of this movie even though it isn't faithful to the original book. I fast forward through the titles and eagerly await one of my favorite scenes that takes place at the community dance at a country hall. I pump my fist when Lizzy gives it to Darcy on how to promote affection, to get back at him for insulting her earlier. After she delivers the line to the pompous ass, she confidently walks out leaving him stunned. I rewind the scene and watch it over and over until my phone prompts an incoming text from Edward:

_I have a delivery for you, are you home now?_

I reply _yes_, and then feel guilty that I haven't thanked him for the beautiful flowers yet. _What can he possibly be sending me now?_ I settle back in to the movie, and right at the scene in the rain where Darcy first declares his love, the doorbell rings. _Damn_, I put the DVD player on pause and peek out the door. The delivery guy is holding a large wrapped package. I grab my wallet and take out a tip before opening the door.

My mind gripped with curiosity, I carry the package to the table and carefully start to unwrap it. I gasp when I see the edge of a very ornate frame_. Is this one of his paintings?_My heart starts pounding. _I can't believe this._ As I pull the main piece of wrapping away I step back shocked.

The painting is of an angel, an exquisite angel with flowing hair and gossamer wings, yet she is of Edward's world of color and expression. As I look closely I can see where he has put his hands on the painting. I can even see pencil markings bleeding through in spots where he first drew her and then markings he added once the paint was applied.

And as much as I love the painting, as much as I am overwhelmed to receive the most exceptional gift of my life, those feelings are superseded by the stunning recognition that the angel has my face. I am Edward's angel.

I take several breaths to calm myself. When on earth did he paint this? What depth of emotion would cause him to not only do the painting, but then give it to me? Much less importantly but still curiously, how did he get it to dry and then get it framed so quickly? The whole thing represents an extraordinary effort.

I see a note in the pile of wrapping, and I pick it up, slowly opening it.

_Dear Bella, I stayed up all night painting this for you. Maybe now you will understand. Edward._

I hold up the painting and shift it slowly in the light trying to understand all that he could have meant with those words. And then it occurs to me to turn it over, and sure enough he has written something on the back.

_Bella, I believe Edward Rochester said it best:_

_I knew you would do me good in some way, at some time. I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you; their expression and smile did not strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing._

_Thank you, Bella, my angel. _

_Edward_

Okay, now I've melted. I'm but a mere puddle on the floor. Does he even know _Jane Eyre_ is my all time favorite story? I carry the painting back to the living room and carefully place it above the fireplace, leaning into the wall. I stand back and gaze at it, my heart still racing and tears brimming my eyes. It's almost too much to comprehend. I know I need to call him right away.

I decide to text first.

_Edward, the painting, the flowers, I am completely overwhelmed and unbelievably touched._

He responds immediately:

_Are you ready to talk?_

So I hit respond dial.

"Wow, Edward," I gasp when he answers. "You really know how to say thank you."

"By completely overwhelmed, I hope you met in a good way?" he asks cautiously.

"Yes, of course," I respond. "I have never received such an extraordinary gift. I'm crying right now if you must know."

"Don't cry, Bella," he says gently, quietly. "I don't want to make you feel bad anymore. You scared me yesterday. I didn't think you had it in you to yell like that, to get that mad."

"Yeah, I surprised myself. I had just gotten more and more wound up when I couldn't reach you. And then I was so terrified that I had done the wrong thing by convincing the Meyers' to give you another chance. I know I had no right to involve myself like that." I take a long breath. "So when you freaked out on me I just lost it."

"How could you have done the wrong thing, Bella?" He states categorically, "You're my angel."

I decide to shelve the weird angel talk for later, so I press on about the argument. "Yes, well, angel or not, it wasn't my place…it just had happened so fast, and I made a split second decision to try to help you."

"Thank God you did, Bella," he assures me. "I was able to convince Stephan that his initial support of me was so appreciated, and that I would do anything in my power to regain his respect. Without going into detail now, I will just say that I was able to explain the events of that day and evening of the disaster, and that gave him another perspective on my intentions. When the phone call ended I felt hopeful the bridge had been mended."

"Oh, I'm glad for that, Edward," I sighed.

"And then right at noon I got a call from Lisa Adams, the curator at MOMA, and she told me that they want to include me in their feature exhibit early next year." I could hear the joy in his voice. If he had been here I would have grabbed and hugged him.

"Edward, I am soooo happy for you! It's a dream come true isn't it!"

"If you only knew what this means to me. Well, it's everything, Bella, and it would have never happened without you."

I am quiet because I know it is true, and the satisfaction in knowing that is another gift I can hold in my heart.

"I wish I could redo that whole scene in my studio. I feel horrible that I got so angry and yelled at you."

"You were pretty scary," I agreed. "Is it really true that no one comes into your studio?"

"Yes," he admits. "Making art is such an intimate act that I hate anyone watching. I always struggled in my studio classes at school with it, but it's just gotten worse over the years."

"Well, I did surprise you," I admitted.

"Yes, I'm not good at surprises either." He laughs.

"Noted," I jest. "But I don't put up with yelling, understood?"

"Noted," he agrees. "So, I want to do something to celebrate. I thought I'd pull some friends together for dinner out, maybe tomorrow if we can get it figured out. Will you come?"

"Okay, sure." I smile into the phone.

"So we are good?" he asks, "Still friends?"

"Yes, still friends, Edward," I confirm. "And thanks again, Edward."

"You bet, baby. There are plenty of good times ahead for us."

_I hope so,_ I think as I sit back on the couch to look at my painting.

_My painting._

Edward succeeded in getting a small group together for Sunday night, and he chose _The Ivy_ on Robertson for the restaurant. Alice and I decide to get facials at Burke-Williams in the early afternoon as a treat, and we take extra care getting dressed. She insists that I wear my Agent Provocateur lingerie under my Derek Lamb dress I had splurged on recently at the Barney's warehouse sale. I have to admit I'm feeling pretty damn good.

When we arrive at the restaurant, Jasper and Edward are already there, and Edward looks exuberant. He gives me a big hug, swinging me around, and then when he puts me down he steps back, holding me by the shoulders at arms' length. "Hey angel. you are the honored guest tonight." My cheeks are on fire, and I smile from ear to ear.

The rest of the group, Rose, Lauren and Sam soon follow, and we are seated on the heated patio under the twinkling lights. Edward orders several bottles of Veuve Clicquot champagne for the toast.

"As you guys have all heard, I found out Friday that I am being included in a group show at MOMA. But what you may not have heard is that this never would have happened if not for Bella." Rose, Lauren and Sam's heads snap towards me in perfect synchronization. I look down embarrassed. "Having my work hang in MOMA is a life-long dream, so thank you guys for helping me celebrate this, and thank you to my angel, Bella, for waving her magic wand and making my dreams come true." He picks up his champagne flute.

"To Bella!"

Everyone joins in, "To Bella!"

The table is immediately buzzing in conversation as Rose and the gang hear the story of the Meyers' installation and resulting phone call that changed Edward's fate. Everyone is in a festive mood, and as the courses of food arrive it seems we are in a wonderful bubble. In my mind I take a step back and look at the group of us laughing and joyful. A swirl of colors and warm light envelopes us. I will always remember this feeling, this moment. I am really truly happy.

"So Edward, how are you going to thank the Meyers?" Alice asks at one point.

"Yeah, Sam laughs, "are you promising them your first born or something?"

"No," Edward laughs, but it is clear he has thought about this. "But I am giving them my best painting. I'm delivering it on Monday. I really want them to have it; it will mean something to all of us."

His declaration makes me smile when I realize how right that feels.

When it's time to leave it is clear that no one wants the evening to end. As we wait for the valet to bring us our cars, Edward and Jasper start trying to convince Alice and I to go for a ride with them. To me this is a ridiculous idea even if Jasper barely drank and seems to have his wits about him. _What, and drive up to Mulholland and make out in the car? I laugh to myself. If only…_It's been a long eventful weekend, and I know that I need to get home and sleep if I'm going to be worth anything tomorrow. Besides, any time close to Edward at this point will undoubtedly throw gasoline on the fire already inside of me.

While having a final discussion with Rose, Edward, who is fairly lit from a steady flow of champagne and martinis, stands behind me and wraps his arms around my shoulders affectionately. As they talk, he progressively pulls me back against him. And then suddenly my head clears from its champagne fog. I feel a growing hardness pressing into me. It is so prominent that it is difficult to ignore. All that is between us is a few layers of fabric. I take a very deep breath. I'm now thinking crazy thoughts, imagining reaching up and lowering his hands onto my breasts, then reaching back and wrapping my hand around his raging erection. Wetness instantly pools between my legs, and I fight an inner war to stop my ass from pressing back against him. _Oh God, I can't take much more of this. Is he that drunk that he doesn't know what he is doing?_

When the valet brings Alice's car forward, Edward pulls away quickly, draping his jacket in front of him, and the good-byes are brief. My raging libido is shattered, and I struggle to keep my focus straight. _Thank God Alice is driving._ We agree to talk in the next day or so to plan our next book meeting.

When we are stopped at the first streetlight, Alice turns completely sideways and stares at me.

"What?" I ask laughing.

"Oh, you know very well, Miss Bella, what I'm wondering," she suggests provocatively. "That sexual energy between you and _art guy_ is unbelievable. At the end I thought he was going to throw you on the table and have his way with you in front of all of us. Not that I would have minded watching. That would have been very hot."

"Oh, girlfriend, you are so kinky, and you have an overactive imagination to boot. If any vibe like that was going on, it was only because he was drunk and in his stupor may have confused me for one of his art-whores. The only honest wild passion I witnessed tonight was between you and Jasper. He looked at you with those fuck-me eyes all night. I promise you, Edward isn't interested in me in that way, so you haven't gotten rid of your roommate yet."

"Well, that's a relief, but it doesn't change what I see as clear as day." Alice gets that faraway look in her eyes. "Mind my prediction, Bella, you will be in Edward's bed much sooner than you think."

* * *

**My shout out last chapter was for The Betting Man by mybluesky. I love the way the author handled this premise and the character development. It's been a really entertaining read, and I can't wait to see how it works out.**

**Your reviews and sign ups for Story Alerts and Favorite Stories have been so encouraging……thank you! Next update Monday.**


	10. Chapter 10  Down Dog

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Thanks to my beta babe, TwilightZoner who gives it to me straight.

This chapter is dedicated to Cheri, yoga teacher extraordinaire and best sister ever. Thank you for putting up with me and allowing Bella and Rose to take your class.

* * *

**Work of Art / Chapter Ten / Down Dog **

Newly inspired, I wake up at the crack of dawn to get some writing time in before work. I finish up the outline for Edward's book and write almost a page of text before I have to head out. On the way in I call James' office and arrange to come by during my lunch break to go over the procedures and paperwork. James has generously offered to bring lunch in since he knows I work for Carlisle during the day and have limited time to meet.

_ArtForum's_ West Coast offices are on the 25th floor in a sleek glass tower on Wilshire Blvd. While I wait in the reception area I marvel at the views of the city below. I can't imagine what it must be like to work in a place like this every day.

James' assistant comes out to collect me, and we head down a long corridor to his office suite. She asks me to wait on a leather couch on the far side of his office, and she lets me know he will be with me momentarily. I look up to study the various black and white prints he has framed around his office: Vasily Kandinsky, Kiki Smith, Louise Bourgeois, Paul Klee and Kara Walker. There is also a beautiful Robert Graham nude bronze on a pedestal by the window. Although I am pleased with myself for being able to identify all the artists, I'm fighting panic out of sheer intimidation. I'm not even a published writer, but I'm pretending to be one. I am really feeling out of my league.

Moments later James sweeps in looking polished as always in pressed jeans, a white button down shirt and navy wool blazer. His tortoise glasses give him the sexy professor look.

"Bella," he says smoothly. He moves towards me as I rise out off the couch and lightly kisses me on the cheek. "I'm so glad we could work this out for you to come by today."

"Yes, James." I smile warmly at him. "I really appreciate your working me in on short notice."

"My pleasure," he assures me as he puts his hand on my lower back to guide me forward. "Let's move to the table so we can get started and have some lunch." There is something about his alpha presence that I find appealing. He is so sure of himself.

He begins by handing me a folder and carefully explains the documents inside which include the agreement from the lawyer, deadlines, pay schedules, and a document of content guidelines. "I've also put together a list of people that would be beneficial to interview for the book. Along with that I made a list of issues particular to Edward and his burgeoning place in the art world that should be covered in the text."

Just then his assistant sweeps in with a tray. "I've taken the liberty of ordering for us. I hope you like salmon?" he states more then asks.

"Yes, it looks wonderful," I say as she sets in front of me cold poached salmon garnished with a mango salsa and an assortment of vegetables artfully arranged on the plate. A tall bottle of Aqua Penna mineral water is carefully opened and poured into our crystal glasses. After this uber-healthy meal I'm may need to make a stop at In-and-Out for a burger on the way back to the office. I didn't think men ate like this.

"So Bella, have you been able to meet with Edward yet? I do hope that he is cooperating since he was so insistent on bringing you on board for this project."

"Yes, we have met a couple of times, and we will meet again this week to go over things. I've brought a copy of my outline for you, and I am making progress with the text."

"Very good, I'll look at that in a minute. But first I want to make sure that he is being a gentleman. I hope you don't mind my being frank with you, but it's that aspect of this collaboration that I'm most concerned with. For some reason you bring out the protective side of me." He smiles seductively.

"Well, I appreciate your looking out for me, James, but so far he has been a perfect gentleman." My mind flashes for a moment to the scene in front of the restaurant last night, but I quickly refocus. "I don't think I'm his type anyway, if you know what I mean."

He laughs softly. "Yes, sadly Edward does have a propensity to pursue women whose physical allure outweighs any depth or intelligence but don't sell your enormous attraction short Bella. He knows you are not an easy target. I'm sure he is lurking while he plans his strategy, and then he will pounce when you least expect it."

_Okay, that was creepy._ _Are we still talking about Edward?_ "Well, I'm not interested," I state, hoping to convince him.

"Yes, and for a man like Edward there is nothing more alluring then a beautiful woman who isn't interested. She is a prize desired to be won."

_A little obsessive aren't we?_

I pull open my folder to refocus the conversation. After a few more minutes of discussion I look at my watch and realize that I'm going to have to leave to make it back to the gallery in time. I assure James that I will alert him if anything changes with Edward and agree to meet him for drinks Thursday after work to go over the outline.

Rose texts me right after lunch to confirm our date tonight. She's on some type of health kick, so we are going to a yoga class and then dining at a nearby café that caters to all the beautiful health-conscious people this city is overrun with.

The afternoon in the gallery goes quickly as Embry's assistant delivers four new paintings and I catalogue and price them according to Carlisle's instructions. He already has several clients lined up to come in and see them. Rose calls right before six to check in.

"Are you ready to go yet?" she pushes me.

"I just wrapped up but I still have to change. I brought my stuff here so it will just take a minute."

"Okay, hurry though," Rose insists. "We have to get there early, baby. Those fierce yoga bitches will take you down if you show up late and try to squeeze your mat in next to theirs."

I laugh. "Okay okay, I'll be there in fifteen!"

I take my yoga bag and slip into the bathroom quickly pulling off my dress and pulling on my yoga pants, tank top and flip flops. When I step out Emmett and Jacob are talking a few feet away in the hall. They both stop and check me out, and I blush furiously.

"What, you've never seen yoga gear before?" I challenge them.

"Is that what that is?" Jacob smiles. "Nice."

"Yeah," chimes in Emmett. "Those yoga stretchy pants make your ass look great." He gives me a huge toothy grin.

"Gee thanks, guys. I'll remember that when my great looking ass is up in the air and I'm twisted like a pretzel." I charge out of the gallery with fear of the wrath of Rose fueling my fire.

Luckily I score a parking spot right in front of the Sun Moon Yoga Studio, and I quickly get inside and find Rose. Her mat is already rolled out near the front of the large studio. I flop my mat down next to hers.

Even though class hasn't started yet she whispers to me, "This class is a blend of Restorative and Hatha yoga, and it is taught by the studio's owner, Cheri. It's the most popular class they offer. I've seen the class so full that they've had to turn people away, and let me tell you it wasn't pretty." She shakes her head remembering.

Anyway, it's supposed to be really good for de-stressing. I thought it would be good for you right now."

"You got that right sister," I whisper back, smiling. I look around and in that short period of time the room has filled up with stressed-out looking women in stretchy clothes sitting on purple or blue foam mats. Just then a beautiful, serene woman with long flowing dark hair glides to the front of the room and starts the class. As hypnotic Indian music plays, she talks to us in a honey dripped voice and guides us into different positions that we hold and hold and hold. She encourages us to breathe into our tension and release it. She also walks around and is hands-on helping people get into position.

I soon realize how messed up I am when every pose makes me think of Edward and not in a _PG_ kind of way. There's the down-dog, and I'm imaging him behind me, and no further explanation is needed there. All that holding and deep breathing gives you lots of time to imagine things.

Then we move into the dolphin pose with our asses all the way up in the air. _Oh my._ Next comes the bridge and open plow poses, which give new meaning to flexibility while spreading ones legs. But the last straw for me is the bound angle pose, which just sounds nasty as the ethereal Cheri explains that it's a groin and hip opener. At this point I'm just a quivering mess on my little sheet of foam. Rose hears me panting and she gives me a look, rolling her eyes.

I finally calm myself down by trying to remember my grocery shopping list one item at a time. Cheri then puts us in the final pose, savasana, which is essentially laying down flat--my favorite kind of pose. She starts doing a guided meditation that is so hypnotic the next thing I know Rose is trying to wake me up because the class is over.

"You were snoring," she informs me, shaking her head as we walk out the door.

We stroll the two blocks down Melrose to the Urth Café, and it's warm enough to sit outside on the patio. After ordering salads and organic green tea we start catching up with each other's lives. Rose tells me that she and Lauren are researching going through with a formal wedding ceremony. I'm surprised that they feel the need for the formality, but she explains that they are thinking about having a child, and it would be nice for the kids to know they had made that commitment. She also tells me they are worried that Proposition Eight might pass which would take away their right to get married, so they want to do it before the election. She promises to make me maid of honor if they go through with it.

Our salads arrive, and I start telling her about my meeting with James when I suddenly notice Edward pull into a parking space across the street. He gets out and slowly walks around to the other side of the car. It's rather jarring seeing my fantasy man in the flesh out of the usual context.

"Hey, look Rose, its Edward," I point out right as he pulls open the passenger door and a blond head pops out. Rose and I silently watch as his passenger gets out of the car while he puts money in the parking meter. She is undeniably pretty and tall and lean but with notably large breasts.

"Who's that?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady even though I feel as if I've just been kicked in the stomach.

"Oh man," Rose says squinting. "It's that crazy bitch, Irina. She must be visiting from up North. I can't imagine what he is doing with her again. I mean that chick is crazy, definitely one french fry short of a Happy Meal."

Neither one of us makes any move to say hello or get Edward's attention. Instead we silently watch him lead her into the restaurant across the street.

"Is she an old girlfriend or something?" I ask once they are inside and no longer in view.

"No, just another in the long string of bimbos he occupies himself with. He has seen her more than once, so I guess you have to give her some credit for that."

I can tell Rose is disgusted, and I take some satisfaction in that. As I tell Rose about my recent conversation with Edward and his defensiveness against being called a man-whore, I silently wonder if seeing Edward with sex goddess Irina is the jolt that will finally push him out of my fantasy life.

"When was the last time you saw him in a real relationship?" I ask.

She takes a bite of her salad, and thinks before answering. "There hasn't been anyone he really cared about since Tanya. She was his girlfriend in art school, and he was wild about her."

"What happened with her?" I ask, remembering Edward talking about the girl he was obsessed with; perhaps it was this Tanya.

"Oh, that's a long sordid story. I'm not in the mood to tell it now. Another time, okay?"

"Sure," I agree and take a sip of my tea, my mind churning with curiosity.

The next day is rather uneventful at work, which gives me a little free time to fit in some writing. After a week break, my writers' group is meeting tonight, and I would like to read them some of my text for Edward's book.

Emmett isn't his usual chipper self today, and I take him out to lunch to cheer him up. He ends up confessing that his new amour, Ted, is being stalked by some crazy fan who didn't like something he wrote on his website. He explains that the posters on his blog get really crazy and make threats, but this lunatic took it to the next step and spray painted threats all over his car. I can tell Emmett is really worried for Ted, and I try to console him.

Emmett can be quite intimidating. He is tall and very muscular due to his highly disciplined workouts at the gym every day but inside he is really a big mushy teddy bear. I remind him that at least he and Ted will look out for each other, and he smiles happily.

We head back to the gallery to find Esme has surprised Carlisle with a picnic lunch complete with a wicker basket and checked tablecloth. They always amaze me how they have stayed so much in love after over thirty years of marriage. They are laughing and playful as they eat, and I walk over to give Esme a big hug before getting back to work.

When I get home from my writers' group that night Alice is packing for a three-day executive conference for Disney. Luckily, this year they are holding it at the Disneyland Hotel in Anaheim, so she only has to drive for an hour in the morning to get there. Last year it was in Orlando, which was a much bigger hassle. As she flits around the apartment doing laundry and putting outfits together she tells me about her dinner with Jasper that night. They seem to be getting serious really quickly, and she claps her hands with delight when she tells me that he is taking off work Thursday afternoon to join her at Disneyland. The conference's meetings are ending at four p.m. that day, and everyone has free reign at the park for the evening.

"I've already warned him that we have to go on _Pirates of the Caribbean_ three times!"

"Three times?" I question smiling.

"Johnny Depp is in the ride now, Bella," she lectures me, as if that explains everything.

"Well, I'm sure Jasper will love to watch you squeeing all over Johnny Depp," I tease her.

"It's all right, he understands. He told me he would even dress up in a pirate outfit one night if I'd like." She grins like the Cheshire Cat.

"Oh baby, now we're talking." I laugh. Sounds like she and Jasper have it all figured out.

When I wake up the next morning the first thing I think about is that I am seeing Edward after work. I had been asking him about his formative years, and he came up with the idea of giving me a tour of where he grew up. He told me he'd pick me up at six p.m. at the gallery. I am interested to see what I will learn from him tonight. There is no question that it will help me have a better understanding of him.

My mind wanders to my conversation with Alice last night, and I reflect on how happy she is with Jasper. This leads me to remember Carlisle and Esme's sweet picnic yesterday, Rose and Lauren's desire to get married, and Emmett's concern and protectiveness for his new boyfriend. So many of the most important people in my life have found love, and yet it still eludes me. I have a twisted infatuation with a moody-artist man-whore who is interested in almost every female apart from me. Then I can't drum up feelings for Jacob who adores me and would walk through fire for me. _I must have a screw loose_, I lament.

When Edward comes to pick me up he is apparently still wearing his painting jeans and T-shirt with the addition of a worn leather jacket. He's also wearing Ray-Bans and he definitely has the rebel look going. _Ugh,_ I know this is going to be a distraction since he looks completely fuckable.

I slide into his Porsche with my notepad and folder, immediately exuding a professional air. "Hi Edward," I say politely. "Were you working today?"

"Yeah," he responds looking down at his clothes. "Oh sorry, I had lost track of time and didn't have time to change. I didn't want to be late."

"Oh, I don't mind. You look good actually." And then I blush realizing how that sounded.

His driving is smooth and confident, and he turns on to Beverly Boulevard heading east. We pass street after street of eclectic boutiques, cafes and coffee bars before he makes a right onto Alta Vista. He pulls over in front of a house about eight houses down from the corner.

He gazes past me at a small Spanish home with hand-painted tile wrapped around the picture window and a tangle of palms, bird of paradise and flaming fuchsia bougainvillea in the yard. An old decorative wrought iron gate is standing open to the front patio. He has a soft look in his eyes.

He grips the steering wheel tightly and clears his throat. "This is where I grew up."

I smile. "It's beautiful. I love the style of the house; it has so much character."

"Yeah, my mom loved old Spanish homes, the hardwood floors, thick plaster walls and coved ceilings. The house is built around a wonderful tiled patio with a fountain. We used to eat outside a lot. I have so many good memories here with her." He opens the door of the car to get out.

We stand in front of the house, and he looks up and down the street taking everything in. I wonder what he is thinking, how he is feeling.

"Do you drive by here often?" I ask.

"No, I never do. It's still too hard because it reminds me so much of my mom and how much I miss her."

"I understand." Sadly, I understand better then he may realize.

"How long did you live here?" I ask.

"Well, my Mom bought it after my parents' divorce when I was four, and then I lived here until I left for college." He tips his head, still gazing at the house. "I'm so glad to see they haven't changed it. You know I was worried they might have torn it down and built some big modern house in its place."

"What about the Malibu house? Did your mom buy that later?"

"My parents actually had that house before I was born, and my Mom got it in the divorce, while my dad took the Beverly Hills house. People thought she was nuts when she used up all her money to buy this. They assumed we would live in Malibu, but she didn't want to raise me there. We would only go for occasional weekends and some time in the summer."

"Why not live there?" I find all of this fascinating. It is so different than my world growing up.

"Remember how I told you that day you came to my house at the beach how my Mom always felt that the kids in Malibu were so entitled and disconnected from the real world?"

I nod remembering.

"She wanted to raise me in the city and send me to public school so I would have a realistic understanding of things." I can tell as he says it that he is proud of his mother for raising him the way she did.

"And your dad?" I wonder out loud. "Is he still alive?"

I see his face close down. "He's still alive. I just don't have any relationship with him. I haven't since my mom died, and I barely did before that."

"I'm sorry, Edward." I respond gently.

He looks over at me and starts to say something but then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "We can live our lives with regret or resentment for what we didn't have, but I have come to believe that whatever our experience was shaped who we are now. So I just have to believe this was the path I was supposed to have."

I smile at him, surprised to see some of the depth in Edward Jasper had talked about. But after a moment I decided to lighten things by changing the subject. "There are a lot of houses on this street. Did you have a lot of kids in this neighborhood?"

"Oh yeah," he laughed. "So many kids that we would organize our own Olympic Games in the summer. Those were good times. Oh, and _kick the can_. We would play that until it was so dark we couldn't see to play any longer."

"I also remember that there used to be a piano store on the corner and they would let us take the wooden crates after the pianos were unloaded. They made the best forts and clubhouses, but it was hell trying to get them down the street. It would take about ten of us dragging and pushing to get it into our yards."

"That must have been quite a sight. I would have loved to have met you when you were a little boy."

"In retrospect, I was a nerd and really shy, always drawing and reading and lost in my own imagination. The bigger kids often taunted me, but my best friend Bobby lived next door and he would defend me. He also dragged me outside to play as often as he could."

"See that Mexican restaurant down on the corner called El Coyote?" I nod, looking where he is pointing. "Mom and I would have enchiladas there every Sunday night. The waitresses wore these traditional Spanish dresses with big hoop skirts underneath that were so big they couldn't pass down the aisles without tipping up. I was always trying to sneak a peek under those skirts."

_So the man-whore thing started early,_ I snicker to myself.

"This must have been a fun area to live in," I observe.

"Sure, there was an art supply store just down Beverly that I practically lived at. The owner, Kirk, would have to ask me to leave at night so he could close the store. And I used to ride my bike to the museum every Saturday. All the guards there knew me and would bring me food from the cafeteria.

"Come on, I'll continue the tour. Let's drive by my high school and then go to Farmers Market and get something to eat." We get back in the car and head West about a mile until he pulls up to a big public high school at the corner of Melrose and Fairfax. "Three years before I started high school they established a fine art magnet here so I was really lucky. It was like a small art school within the school. I had some great art teachers who really encouraged me in my work. I would have probably never ended up at Pratt, hell I probably wouldn't be who I am today, if I hadn't had that experience."

Next we head over to an L.A. mainstay, Farmers Market, a little collection of permanent stalls with every kind of prepared food: stands with baskets of fresh fruit, bakeries, a doughnut shop, and a place where you can watch them make candy before your eyes. There are metal tables and chairs from the 1940s clustered around so people can pick up a sandwich or some coffee and hang out with friends. And since it is entirely outdoors, there are clusters of old-fashioned scallop-edged umbrellas in different colors to take shade under. It is always mixed with an eclectic group of people, from L.A. hipsters, to old people that grew up in the area, to tourists from all over the world. My favorite group is the game show contestants who wander over still wearing their name tags since CBS Studios is right next door.

"Bennett's Ice Cream!" Edward calls out as we walk down an aisle. "That's where I had my first job. As a matter of fact, I had my first hand-job in the storeroom..….Emily Young? I wonder what ever happened to her?"

"The storeroom? How romantic," I respond. "Why don't you Facebook her? You could become Facebook friends and eventually have a repeat performance. I have several ex-boyfriends stalking me on Facebook."

"No thanks." He laughs with abandon.

We wander around until we decide on Middle-Eastern food for dinner, and we share a falafel plate and gyro sandwiches. About halfway through dinner I realize that I have never seen Edward so happy and relaxed. Maybe there is something about letting your past make peace with your present that has been good for him.

We are both quiet on the drive back to the gallery, and he pulls up next to my car and turns off the engine. There is a heaviness in the air, and I'm waiting to figure out if he will address it or not, as another minute passes in silence. He finally turns to look at me.

"You know, Bella, I've never shown anyone my past before. It seems too private and invasive. Yet it felt so right to share it with you. I mean, I know this is research for the book for you, but for me it felt like something more. I'm not sure what yet, but I want to find out."

His green eyes are searching mine, full of emotion and maybe fear. So I look back at him unwavering, trying to tell him with my eyes how much it had meant to me to share these memories with him. I am too scared to speak and angry at myself for my fierce attraction to this complicated man. Perhaps I am afraid that this delicate web that has woven between us will dissolve from the sheer force of my confused thoughts. And in the next moment his lips part as he looks at mine, and I can feel how much he wants to pull me in his arms and kiss me. All of my logic suddenly escapes me, pushing all of my reservations about him with Irina and the art-whores away as my guard comes crashing down.

All I can do is close my eyes and wait, hoping his heart's desire will overcome the cautious inclination of his tangled mind.

* * *

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**Last chapter had a shout-out to CalliopeBlabs whose ongoing dialogue on Twitter continuously delights me. It is rare that a day goes by where I haven't laughed out loud at her stories or musings.**

**The traffic feature on FF crashed for me Thursday so now I'm in an author's black hole. The only way I know if someone has read my story is if I get a review or you sign up for Story Alert, etc.….so show me some love, I'm feeling lonely….**

Next update Saturday or Sunday at the latest.


	11. Chapter 11  Freefall

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Thanks so much to my beta babe, TwilightZoner. And a big thank you to those of you who have left reviews...you make me think, you make me smile, and you give me the motivation to keep putting my all into this story.

* * *

**Work of Art / Chapter Eleven / Freefall**

_If I could say it in words there would be no reason to paint. –Edward Hopper_

_.  
_

The seconds pass and with my eyes closed I can imagine his lips are almost on me. I'm preparing for my libido to spontaneously combust from the resulting heat and friction. But clearly this image is the result of the misapprehension of Bella Swan, because I hear the Porsche door locks snap open and Edward clear his throat.

"Thanks again, Bella," he says quietly as my eyes shoot open and I try to conceal the horror that is creeping up and reshaping my face. I am completely stunned that I could have misread his intentions so completely, and as a result I can't get out of the car fast enough.

"Yeah okay, bye," I snap and hurl myself out the door. I don't look back as I fumble with my keys finally falling into my car. The tears of frustration are starting as I turn the key firing the ignition.

_What is wrong with you? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why do you do this? Are you an idiot? You are an idiot. Have you not paid attention to every sign post the man-whore has held in front of you? You are such a fucking idiot. Why in the hell would you want the man-whore to kiss you anyway? Have you lost your mind? The man-whore thinks of you like a sister. Worse than his sister, his idiot loser moron sister. He is probably on his way to pick up Irina so he can fuck her brains out. Why are her breasts so big? You should never see him again. Tomorrow you should quit this project and tell him you are just not interested in writing his stupid fucking book. You should fuck James. You should fuck Jacob. You should fuck those stupid ex-boyfriend Facebook Friends. You are so fucked._

This thread of destructive thoughts hurls through my head over and over until I am finally home and have ingested three shots of Grey Goose. I'm almost glad Alice isn't coming home tonight so I can spare her my epic tale that sinks my loser love-life status down into a whole new stratosphere.

I somehow get to my bedroom, and in my drunken state my bed is a ship drifting through a murky sea. All I can do is pray that I will reach shore by morning.

. ~*~

I blink a few times trying to understand the source of the highly annoying bright light before I realize it is morning and the sun is pouring through my window. I sit up long enough to down the entire glass of water at my bedside and then throw myself back on the bed and groan. As snippets of my late evening freefall are recalled, I face the humbling realization that although things could theoretically be worse in the battle of the sexes, it feels like I've hit bottom.

I allow myself to wallow for a few more minutes and then give myself a talking to. I need to move onwards and upwards. And although I would love to walk away from the book project so I don't have to interact with Edward ever again, I'm going to be adult about this and just get it done.

I get in the shower and start planning my strategy for the day. Jacob needs me to work in the printing studio on a run so after I've dried off I pull my hair back and pull on skinny jeans and a hoodie. I also put together something to change into for my meeting with James later.

It feels good to work the press that day, the mindless repetitive motion, the beauty unfolding as we apply one color at a time on paper until the image starts to form. And it is good to spend the day around Jacob, someone who appreciates me and looks at me like I am the greatest thing around. I know that is selfish to need and want that without being willing to give anything back in return, but that is where I'm at.

We are ready to close up the shop and my cell ringtone prompts. I see it is Alice so I accept the call. She explains that she forgot to mail her Visa bill and it is due Monday. She asks me to swing by the drive-through at the post office in the morning so she doesn't get that stinking late fee again this month.

"How's the happiest place on earth?" I ask smiling.

"Now that Jasper's here, it is the happiest place on earth!"

"Alice that is so sweet it's sickening. Are you having fun on the rides? How was Pirates of the Caribbean?"

She snickers. "That's not my favorite anymore. I am such a bad girl Bella. We were on the Haunted Mansion and you know how dark that ride is..."

Uh oh, I see where this is going.

"So we are having fun making out in the dark and then the ride stops; it breaks down, and we are just waiting in the pitch dark with nothing to do. So not one to miss out on an opportunity, I decide to please my man." She snickers again.

"Please him how?" I edge her on.

"Well, I opened up his pants and worshiped his glorious cock." She moans for dramatic effect, which really is unnecessary and making me picture things I really don't want to.

"Oh, I bet he was loving that." I laugh.

"Girl, that isn't the half of it," she continues. "The soundtrack for the ride was still blasting so we are both moaning, and I mean loudly, and my heads bobbing 'cause I'm doing my best to get it all in my mouth and down my throat. And then suddenly the friggin ride starts up again!"

"Oh no, what did you do?"

"I went faster!" she exclaims. "I wasn't going to disappoint Jasper. So I'm sucking him with everything I've got and he's thrashing around the seat yelling out 'baby, oh baby!' which really doesn't go with the dialogue of the ride. I don't care how loud that ride is, I think the people in front of us knew what was going on."

We get to the last bit of the ride with the hitchhiking ghosts…you know, where you face those big mirrors and the ghosts appear to get in your seat with you and that was it. He could watch me licking and sucking him and it pushed him over the edge. We got his pants pulled up just a second before you had to jump off the ride."

"Your skills have no limits, Alice," I say while shaking my head, still trying to recover from her extremely vivid description.

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing they didn't bust us. That wouldn't look too pretty in my Disney personnel file."

. ~*~

As I'm changing to meet James, I begin to realize that I didn't have all my wits about me this morning because if I had I wouldn't have brought this outfit. The black pants are a little too fitted, although I have to admit they make my ass look great, and the lavender sweater is almost a second skin. The cleavage defined by the Agent Provocateur bra just adds to the effect.

I suppose by most girls' standards what I'm wearing is not a big deal, but for me it is. I feel like I should be serving drinks in Vegas not having a serious business meeting.

But if James is taken aback when I walk up to him in the bar at Chaya Brasserie, he doesn't show it. Instead he greets me warmly, giving me a kiss on both cheeks.

"You look lovely in that color, Bella," he comments, and I think, _this man is smooth as silk._

We start the conversation talking about an event _ArtForum_ is putting on for the opening of a Women in Photography show at the L.A. County Museum. James has a particular passion for fine art photography so he is very enthusiastic, and as he talks his face warm and lively. Suddenly I start paying more attention to details about James.

He has a very handsome face and his sandy blond hair sweeps back off his forehead in waves. He must be in his late forties, but he has obviously taken good care of himself. His body appears very fit with a flat stomach, strong arms and broad shoulders. But the detail that always delights me most is his tortoise shell glasses. They are a retro style that give him a cool professor vibe. I feel a subtle shift while I study him, and I catch myself flirting more as we talk. We go over the outline and he gives me specific directions for the interviews I have lined up. He seems to be pleased with how things are progressing. Something about his compliments of my writing style feels particularly gratifying.

He is very attentive, offering dinner when he hears I didn't have a proper lunch. He even stands and pulls my chair out for me when I return from the powder room. After the mixed messages from Edward, it is a much needed boost to my ego to have a man of James' caliber showing definite interest in me.

After we have had a couple of drinks and loosened up a bit, he decides to confess something to me. "Bella, you probably realize that it is unusual for me to be so hands on with you on your project. Normally this type of thing is handled by one of my associates."

"Yes, that thought had crossed my mind," I admit. "I just assumed you were involved because you had a personal interest in the subject. I also know using me wasn't your idea. Or did you take a greater interest because you just weren't sure what to do with me? " And I tip my chin down and look up at him through my lashes. _Good God, what has come over me?_

"Oh no, I know exactly what I want to do with you." And he runs his finger very lightly along the inside of my wrist. I feel the tingle echo through me. His gray blue eyes are smoldering and telling me everything I suspected.

I enjoy the wave of desire that washes over me, and although it is not the all-consuming fire that takes over when I let my guard down around Edward, it is still exciting. As he continues talking, my mind drifts to wondering what he would be like in bed. Perhaps some fun with James is just what I need to get over the idea of Edward.

My alcohol haze is creeping in, and I decide to end the evening before I do something impulsive. But I am still feeling frisky, so when we walk out the door of the restaurant I step off to the side and turn to James.

"Mr. Alistair," I say coyly, "my curiosity is getting the best of me. Do you mind telling me exactly what it is you want to do with me?"

He looks at me for a moment, apparently turning something over in his mind, and then he tilts his head and smiles, his decision made. "Ah Bella." His sigh and burning look are making me melt. He steps to my side and brushes his face right up to my ear and begins to speak quietly, so only I can hear.

"First, I want to pull you over there," and he lifts his arm up and points, "to the dark shadows of the alley, and I want to press you against the wall and then run my tongue over your sweet lips. When I do this you taste like honey, Bella, and you moan as my lips now press against you and our tongues meet sliding together while I slowly ravage your lips." He pauses and takes several deep breaths.

I am too stunned to speak. _Did he really just say that to me?_ I knew he liked me, but this is something else, and it's so unexpected and hot that I am powerless to resist.

"And you like this, Bella, you like it a lot. You are moaning as now I am fucking your mouth with my tongue. Do you want to hear more Bella?"

I silently nod my head, feeling the wetness soak my panties.

"Mmmmm," he moans into my ear, "you are so delicious, Bella."

So while I am fucking your soft wet mouth I reach up under that tight sweater you have taunted me with all night and pull your bra away so I can grab on to one of your glorious breasts. Your nipple is instantly hard under my fingers, and I pinch and pull until you are grinding up against me begging for more."

At that point, Bella, you will be so aroused that you will beg me to suck on your breasts. And when I do I will suck hard because I want to see you thrash around and beg for more. Oh, I can almost taste those sweet pink nipples in my mouth right now." He groans louder and his breath is hot on my ear. Still frozen in place, I blink and bite my lower lip. He knows what he is doing to me. The desire is surging through me.

"I will then take your hand and guide it to my erection so that you can wrap your hands around me and stroke my cock." He groans as he watches me look down and see evidence of what this conversation is doing to him. He has a huge bulge in his slacks. "Yes, baby, that is what you do to me."

_Oh my God._ I've never had a boyfriend talk to me like that, let alone someone I barely know. I can't decide if I should be completely freaked out or just glad that I can evoke such passion in a man like James.

I snap out of my shock induced stupor and look directly at him. And although his eyes are wild with lust, I also sense that he is completely in control, and I find this unbelievably sexy. I sway and he senses that I have reached and surpassed my limit, and so before he finally pulls away from me, he shares one more thought.

"Tonight, Bella, when you lie in bed I want you to think about this while you slide your hands between your legs. I want you to remember what you do to me as I will be doing the same."

_Okey dokey_, James thinking of me and stroking himself. Now there's a picture that will keep me up tonight.

And in the perfect contrast to the verbal foreplay he has just performed on me, he walks me to my car, takes my hand and kisses it good night. I am undone, completely undone, and I sit in my car for several minutes calming myself before I am able to drive.

I am super-charged as I drive home. I can't believe that I managed to rise from my bottomless pit this morning to experience a day that ended like this. Even if I never saw James again, his seductive story restored my faith that I can be desirable to another man.

And feeling like a phoenix just beginning to rise is great until I reach the landing at the top of our apartment stairs and realize something is horribly amiss. Our front door is standing open and the inside appears to be completely dark.

My stomach freefalls and panic sweeps over me. Other than my pounding heart, I am still as a mouse listening for any sounds of movement in the apartment. There is complete silence. I tentatively take two steps closer to the door and peer inside. From the cast of the streetlights and porch light I can see that the T.V. is gone. With greater dread, I look towards Alice's desk and see a gaping hole where her computer was. _Oh my God, we've been robbed._

I run down the stairs to our neighbor's apartment but she isn't home. So while still on her porch I pull out my cell phone, and call the police. After the dispatcher confirms with me that the robbers appear to be gone, she warns me that they are extremely busy tonight and it may take a while for the cops to get there. She suggests that I don't wait alone. After I hang up with her my mind races as to whom I should call.

I decide not to call Alice yet since she's still at Disneyland, which is well over an hour away. She's going to flip out when I give her the news. I hope she backed her computer up before she left since she has a lot of design work on it.

I call Jacob but his phone goes directly to voicemail. _Damn!_ Half the time he doesn't even turn his phone on.

With my hands shaking I start to call Emmett but then I remember that he and Ted were meeting Carlisle and Esme for dinner at the Saddleback Lodge for Esme's birthday.

_Fuck!_ Tears of frustration and panic start rolling down my cheeks, and I do the thing I least want to do. I dial Edward's number. The phone rings once, twice, and after the third ring I panic and hang up. I look back at my phone and see that it is eight-thirty which means that the Cullens are probably still at the restaurant, but I try to call to Emmett anyway because I'm getting desperate. An automated voice informs me that the number I am trying to call is in a zone with no service.

I dial Jacob again but again it goes directly to voicemail. I don't know when I have ever felt so alone. If I had James' cell phone number I would call him at this point, but I don't have it.

I call Edward again and let it ring until his voicemail comes on, and I start to leave a message but right after I say, "Edward..." I panic again and hang up. At this point I crumble into my neighbors chair next to her door and start to cry.

Only a minute passes when suddenly my phone prompts and it is the best sound I have ever heard. I slide it open before checking to see who it is.

"Bella?"

"Yes," I sob into the phone.

"Are you okay? I just realized that you called twice, and it's so loud in here that I didn't hear my phone." I can hear pounding music and a woman asking Edward something in the background.

I'm too freaked out to even respond to his question, so I just cry into the phone.

"Bella! What's wrong?" The growing concern in his voice is comforting.

"We were robbed, and I'm too afraid to go into my apartment."

"Oh no." He is upset. "You were robbed?" he repeats, trying to take it in. "Where are you now, Bella?"

"Downstairs on my neighbor's porch, but she isn't home, and I can't get a hold of anyone to help me."

"Well, I'm glad you called me. I'm in West Hollywood now so I can be there within ten minutes. Hold on a sec."

It seems he has his hand over his phone, but I can still hear what sounds like him telling a woman something. She doesn't sound happy, and he barks something back in response.

"Okay, I'm back, Bella. What I want you to do is get in your car and lock it and wait for me. Is your car out front?"

"Yes," I sniffle, but the guilt is starting to set in. "But Edward, it sounds like you are out with someone. I don't want to take you away from your evening." I sound pathetic.

"Stop it, Bella. Just get in the car and I'll be there in ten." And the phone clicks off.

I get in my car, folding my arms across the steering wheel. I rest my face into my arms and continue to cry. Part of me is dreading seeing Edward, and the other part is incredibly grateful he is coming. I'm going to need support to face my apartment. A moment later there is a gentle knock on the window, and I look up to see him, his face etched with concern.

I unlock the door and he opens it then gently pulls me out of the car and into his arms. My crying gets louder again, and he rocks me slowly, running his hand over my head repeatedly until I calm down. He pulls away and looks down at me.

"I'm going to go into the apartment and make sure no one is still there and that it is okay to go in. I want you to lock yourself back in the car while I do that."

"Can't I go with you?" I plead.

"No, just let me do it." He puts me back in the car and moves quickly up the stairs. I see the lights of the apartment snap on one at a time and then a few moments later I watch him come back out the door and down the stairs.

"I'm sorry, angel." He shakes his head as I step back out of the car. "It looks like they were pretty thorough. I've already called a locksmith. Have you called the police yet?"

"Yes, but they had no idea when they would be able to get here." He puts his arm around my shoulder and calls the police on his iPhone while we slowly move back towards the apartment.

When the police come, Edward holds my hand as we walk room to room so I can start to access what is missing. Every drawer is open, many overturned. My mind is a jumble so the realization comes in waves. I remember my camera full of recently captured memories. I keep looking at the shelf where I always kept it, somehow hoping it will magically reappear. My iPod is no longer on my bed stand where I left it this morning. Someone has my playlists and something about that and my photographs feels so intimate and wrong. It is such a feeling of violation. My mourning begins for things small and large.

My only gleeful moment is when I remember that my laptop is safely in my bag since I had brought it to work to steal some writing time instead of taking a lunch. On a normal day I would have left it at home. I have been working so hard on his story that the relief that my words about Edward haven't been stolen too is palpable.

I share that with him, and he smiles sadly at me and squeezes my hand.

As the policeman wraps up his report, he informs me that it is highly unlikely that we will ever see our stuff again, and that we have to be careful because it is not uncommon for them to come back and take a second round of things--even clothes. I feel myself sway as the blood drains from my face_. Come back?_ The idea of it is more than I can take.

Edward assures me that we will get the place secured. The locksmith he called on the way over is a childhood friend, and he is also having him install an alarm on the door and the window that faces the porch. His clear thinking under pressure is reassuring.

"Okay, angel, let's pack your bag. You are staying at my place tonight."

As much as I know I can't stay in the apartment alone tonight, I have no idea how I will navigate being alone with Edward in Malibu in this state of mind. He senses my hesitation.

"Don't worry, Bella, I've got a guestroom."

His locksmith friend shows up with his equipment, and Edward assures me that he is completely trustworthy, and we can leave while he does the work. _There's nothing good left to steal anyway,_ I think sadly. We will get the new keys, alarm code and instructions in the morning.

Packed and numb I follow Edward to the door to leave, and then something suddenly occurs to me, and I am suddenly frozen like a statue. Edward looks back concerned.

My heart is pounding, fear overtaking me, now praying that the one thing I can't be without, the thing that can't be replaced, is still here. I rush back to my bedroom with Edward on my heels. I look at my bottom desk drawer overturned on the floor, papers and folders scattered everywhere. I flip the drawer back over and desperately rifle through the worthless contents. It's not here. My heart is sinking... _It's not here__._

I fall to my knees and crawl around the floor frantically lifting up everything and throwing it back down again. I sift through the drawer again, and when I begin to do it a third time Edward reaches down and puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Bella, stop, Bella, stop. I'm so sorry," he whispers, having no idea what I've lost, just sensing that it means everything to me.

I snap away from him and crawl around some more, my breath now heaving, a shrill shriek tearing out of my chest. "No, No, No," I chant.

He reaches down again, firmly takes me by the shoulders, and pulls me to my feet. He holds me up and speaks firmly, "Bella you've got to stop. It's gone, I'm sorry Bella, but it's gone."

The sound that comes out of me next is unlike any I've ever heard, something between a sob and the cry of complete and utter despair. Nothing, not Edward's strong arms, not the love I've received from the Cullens, nor the recognition from James can restore what is lost. I feel myself float away, and I can see in my mind Edward reaching out just a moment too late before I crumble, the floor calling out to me as I fall towards it.

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**What do you think was taken from Bella? **

_Check back next Thursday to find out._


	12. Chapter 12  Stolen Memories

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

I love the FanFic community…a big hi to Farkle, Heathers Twilight and Bruiser…three of the friends I've made through this adventure.

Also thank you to my beta TwilightZoner whose fingers are bleeding from adding and taking out all my damn misplaced commas.

Many of you thought the thieves stole Bella's painting but I'm happy to report it is still on the mantle. So here you go…..

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**Work of Art / Chapter Twelve / Stolen Memories **

I have the vague sensation of Edward picking me up in his arms and carrying me, then the muffled sound of him talking to the locksmith while I press my face into his chest. I'm also aware I am trembling and that I can't find words to speak. Edward and the other guy continue to talk while we are moving forward. It feels like we are going down stairs but I am too afraid to open my eyes to be sure.

I hear a car door opening and then I am being lowered into a seat. Behind me I can hear the trunk popping open.

"Yeah, Tommy put her bag in the trunk. Thanks man." He must be speaking to the locksmith.

_Why is he trying to let go of me?_ I fear if he does I will fall like Alice down the rabbit hole with no sense of where or when I will stop. I cling onto his shirt wordlessly telling him not to let me go.

"Bella, sweetheart, " he murmurs gently, "you've got to let go so I can drive us." He peels my hands off his shirt. As soon as the connection with him is broken I start to sob again.

The drive to Malibu is endless and not a word is spoken between us. When I finally will my eyes open I can see a pained look on Edward's face. I'm sure this is a lot more than he bargained for. After he parks he pulls me out of the car and tucks me under his shoulder, than slowly walks me in the house, straight over to the couch. He takes the chenille throw off the edge and wraps it around me, then quietly moves through the house turning on lights and starting up the fireplace. He goes over to the bar and pours me a glass of red wine. When he offers it, I accept and take several large swallows in a row.

He finally joins me on the couch and faces me. "Do you want to talk about it Bella?" he asks.

I look up at him. I know my face is ravaged. I feel broken beyond repair. "Are you sure you want to hear?" I ask tentatively. "It might take a little while." I sigh, feeling I owe him an explanation after all the drama.

"Please tell me, Bella." He reaches over and strokes my cheek. "I'm here to listen as long as you need me to be."

I sit quietly for a minute thinking and then decide to start with the box since on the surface that is what I was looking for in our apartment. So I begin telling Edward the story of my grandma, Renee's mother.

"Olivia was an extraordinary woman-a poet and muse, a world traveler and a force to be reckoned with. I relished the weekends we would drive up to Sedona to see _Oly,_ as she had me call her. She lived in the moment and encouraged me to do the same. When I stayed with her we would have picnics in the rain and sleep out in the yard under the stars. She was always reading to me, and she gave me so much encouragement with my writing. Sometimes Renee would leave me with her for longer stays, and when she'd finally come back and get me my hair would be dyed blue or I'd be speaking with a British accent or have henna tattoos." I smile through my tears as I remember those good times.

"Then when I was sixteen she got sick and declined very quickly. She wasn't sad about it; she felt she had lived life exactly the way she wanted to. She was so amazing. The last time Renee took me to see her she gave me this box." It was such a special box, and as I picture it in my mind the tears start up again. "She had gotten the box during one of her travels in India. It was intricately carved with inlaid mother of pearl and lined with midnight blue silk velvet. I felt so special that she gave it to me, and then when I got home I opened it and found a poem she had written about me inside. It was such a beautiful poem. I miss her Edward."

Edward rubs my shoulder to soothe me but I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes to help him understand this is only the beginning of the story.

"Six months after Oly died my Mom and I were getting dinner ready one night when our doorbell rings. I look out the window and see a policeman waiting at the door. I go get Mom and I will never forget the look on her face as she walked to the door. I think part of her had already died inside.

"As I'm sure you've guessed, the cop was there give us horrible news…to tell us that my dad had been killed in a catastrophic car accident. It was so shocking, so horrific to not even be able to say goodbye. He was thrown from his car and died alone while waiting for the ambulance to get there.

"At dad's funeral his best friend from his childhood approached me. His name is Michael and even though he had moved away many years ago, they had stayed in touch all their lives. That was the kind of guy my dad was. So Michael gives me an envelope and explains that in it is a group of letters dad had written to him over the years. He told me that I was the focus of almost every letter, and how much Charlie loved and was proud of me. With the letters there were photos with the letters of Mom, Dad and me, some of them photos I don't remember ever having seen.

"My dad loved me like crazy but he was a man of few words. So to have these letters after he was gone, those photos, it meant everything to me. I put them in the most precious place I could think of-the box from my grandmother."

I look over at Edward. He is so affected by my story that he looks twisted up in pain. Just seeing his face makes me cry harder again, and he pulls me onto his lap and into his arms trying to comfort me.

I wipe my tears onto my sweater sleeve and continue. "This is the last part Edward, and then I'm done," I say quietly.

"After my dad died, my mom just fell apart. They adored each other and relied on each other for everything, and she just didn't know how to go on without him. For months I had to do all the cleaning, cooking and shopping just to keep our house and our lives together. Luckily he had life insurance so there was money to pay the bills, but she wouldn't get out of bed. I was so sad too and not really equipped with the skills to make things better for my mom. After about six months a friend of hers started insisting that she get out of the house and they would hang at this Country-Western Club. That is were she met Phil.

"Phil was as different from my Dad as could be. He was very charming and outgoing, but he was also wild and irresponsible. In a matter of months my mom was involved with him. At first she was really happy, but then things started to change. It wasn't until later that I realized that he got her into drugs and before you knew it they were partying all the time and burning through the insurance money. At this point I'm in my senior year of high school, taking three AP classes and working a part-time job. I was so busy that I didn't realize how bad things were getting. I guess when the money was gone they got into some major trouble, and then one night in the middle of the night her car was set on fire. Next we started getting weird phone calls, and then one day I came home from school and she was gone."

Edward pulls away from me and looks down frowning. "Gone?" he asks trying to comprehend what I'm saying.

"Yes, she had taken some clothes but that was about it. She just vanished. About three weeks later I got a letter that had been mailed in Mexico. In the letter she tells me how sorry she is and that she loves me with all her heart but right now it is too dangerous for her to be around me. If something happened to me she wouldn't be able to go on. And that was it. She didn't explain to me how I was supposed to go on, how I was going to keep living in the house or anything. I mean hell, I was close to eighteen but I didn't have a clue how to survive on my own.

"I was a basket case. I was too afraid to tell anyone so I pretended that nothing had changed until the bank finally put a notice of eviction on the front door. At that point her girlfriend told me that she had heard mom was in L.A. So I packed up the car with as much as I could fit and then left some other things in storage with a friend. The day that I got in my car and drove away from my house, the only home I'd ever known and knowing what I'd lost was well, you can imagine…".

Edward's face looks angry now, and I take some silent satisfaction with that because it is unforgivable what she did to me.

"Showing up in L.A. with no real money and not knowing anyone was the most terrifying thing you could imagine. I don't know why I thought I would be able to find her here. The few leads I had amounted to nothing, and as each day passed I lost hope that I would see her again. During all of this I got a job at Starbucks but it is so expensive here that I had to live out of my car for a while. It was so humiliating. But it was at Starbucks that I met Emmett Cullen. He was a regular customer and he was so sweet to me. Right at that time they needed extra help around the gallery and he convinced Carlisle to hire me. If it hadn't been for that family I don't know where I would be now."

I stop for a moment, reach over for my glass and drink some more wine. Then I rub my hands over my face in frustration realizing that I got off track. "Anyway my mom's letter went into my box along with my dad's class ring, gold watch and wedding band and some jewelry that my parents had given me over the years.

"So you see, my whole connection to my past was in that box-all that was precious to me-and now it is gone. And other than the jewelry they will pawn, none of it means anything to whoever stole it, and I'd give anything to get it back. If only I could get it back." More tears fall, but I am starting to calm down now that I have finally finished my story. It is a little cathartic to let it all out. I realize that he is the first person who has every heard my story from start to finish, and not in little bits scattered in over time, like my other friends.

Edward continues to hold me close, and he rubs my arm and runs his fingers through my hair as he is turning it all over in his head. His touch is relaxing me and my eyelids are getting heavy as the exhaustion of unleashing so much emotion hits me.

"You know Bella," he finally says, "I can't even believe what you have been through. I had no idea." He shakes his head. "And I'm sorry, so sorry for all that you lost tonight…not just the box and all your stuff, but also the peaceful comfortable feeling you had in your home…because right now that is shattered too.

Instinctively I pull even closer to him.

"But I want to say something, and that is you need to realize what is most important about what you told me is-your memories of your grandma, and dad and mom, not the stuff they left you. You are lucky because each of them loved you so much, and they all had a chance to let you know that and losing the letters doesn't take any of that away. You will always have the memory of what was said in those letters, and they will always live in your heart. And you don't need the stuff to know that is true."

And even though I don't really want to hear that just now, somewhere deep in my heart a tiny part of me knows he is right. And thus begins the healing process. We remain on the couch quietly, and as Edward continues to comfort me my eyes finally close and I fall into a deep exhausted sleep.

. ~*~

I open my eyes and it's dark, and I hear the sound of the ocean. I sit up suddenly wondering where I am. It must be the middle of the night, and I have no recognition of my surroundings. I run my hand over my shoulder and realize I'm wearing a T-shirt I don't recognize with only my bra and panties underneath. _Where are my clothes? _The memory of Edward holding me on the couch comes back to me, and I am horrified to realize that he must have changed me and put me to bed. A familiar unnerving feeling comes over me starting with a cold sweat and then my heart starts racing wildly. Recognizing the signs of a panic attack, I take deep breaths trying to calm myself. I get out of bed to see if I can find Edward.

I step out of the guestroom door into a hallway with a terracotta tile floor and old wrought iron light fixtures dimly lit. There are large paintings on each wall. At the end of the hall are double doors that are intricately carved dark wood. They are just open enough for me to stick my head through and look inside.

A light in the corner is also dimly lit which allows me to take in the details of the room. A pair of French doors are thrown open and the sheer curtains framing it flutter with each breeze. The ocean sounds are even more apparent than from the guest room. In the middle of the room stands a large poster bed with heavy velvet drapes hanging on the sides. Despite the carvings on the bed frame and deep red velvet of the curtains, the design is very masculine.

And then my eyes move down, and I sigh. Lying across the bed is Edward. Despite being covered with sheets, I can see that he sleeps with abandon. He is diagonal on the bed, his arms outstretched and his wild hair a halo against the white pillow. I slowly walk to the edge of the bed and for a moment I just look at him. To see him like this-so peaceful, so beautiful-stirs something inside of me.

"Edward," I call out. "Edward." I wait a moment before I start again. After I've called out to him a half a dozen times his eyes finally open.

"Bella," he says groggily, "are you okay?" He looks at the clock and registers that it is still the middle of the night.

"I'm sorry to wake you Edward, but I had a nightmare and when I woke up I didn't know where I was. I started to have a panic attack. I guess I'm just still shook up and scared from what happened."

"Of course," he replies, rubbing his eyes. "I understand. Do you want me to sit up with you?"

"No," I reply meekly, "but would it be okay if I stay in here while you sleep? Maybe I could lay on the other edge of the bed?"

"Uh, okay…as long as you are comfortable with that, it's fine with me. Why don't you try to get more sleep too." He scoots over to the right side of the bed and lifts up the sheets and blanket on the other side so I can get in. When I sink down into the bed I marvel at how soft the sheets are and how luscious the down mattress cover is. I sigh immediately feeling so much better to be in his presence.

He settles back down and I lay there frozen. There is so much tension floating between us.

"Are you okay?" he finally whispers.

"Yeah, I guess I'm still just nervous. I'll be fine." I roll over to my side facing the French doors and feel the breeze brush over my face.

"Come here," he says quietly. And he curls his arm around my waist and pulls me to him until we are spooning. As he holds me his free hand rubs my head while he repeats in my ear, "It's okay Bella, everything is okay." The feeling of being in his arms and feeling safe and cared for is heavenly. I settle back into a deep, calm sleep.

This time when I wake up again I feel rested despite the night I endured. Clearly the ocean air is healing and this bed is probably the best I have ever slept in. I amuse myself suddenly remembering that Alice predicted I would be in Edward's bed sooner than I thought. _I don't think this is what she had in mind though_. I turn towards Edward and see his sheets pulled back and his spot empty. At first I feel a little empty without him here. Then I realize that it makes the morning less awkward to not have to wake up in his arms and then try to compose myself. I notice a note left on his pillow and I reach for it.

_Went for a run on the beach, be back soon. _

_-E_

I peel the sheets back and step out of bed, taking a long stretch. I decide to find the kitchen and see if he has made any coffee. At the bottom of the stairs I notice an open room to the left and I walk over and stand under the arch leading into the room. It appears to be a library; floor to ceiling shelves full of books line the walls and a large fireplace is on the left wall. The French doors open to the front garden and the koi pond and fountain are in direct view. There is an oversized antique wooden desk on one side of the room angled to look out on the garden, and the desk has piles of papers and books with an Apple laptop in the center.

An old Asian rug frames the sitting area in front of the fireplace, where a pair of oversized worn leather chairs face toward it. I just about swoon…this is my fantasy room. I can imagine sitting here for hours with a favorite book, the fire roaring and the French doors just parted so I can hear the water cascading into the pond. I wonder if Edward realizes how lucky he is to live here.

I wander around a bit more until I find the kitchen, and I note that everywhere I look there are piles of books, both art books and literature. I have to wonder how the busy artist and party boy has time to read. I can't imagine that he has all of these books just for show.

I am rewarded in the kitchen with a pot of coffee already brewed. I help myself to a mug, and then wander out on the patio that faces the beach. I lean on the railing and gaze at the ocean noticing a kayaker cutting across the low horizon. In the next moment something catches my eye and I focus back on the water in time to see two dolphins leap out of the water and dive in again. They repeat the motion three times with incredible grace, and then the water is quiet again.

Finally I gaze along the shore taking in the jagged, rocky coastline of Malibu. The beach is still quiet except for a lone jogger gracefully moving my direction as he runs along the water's edge. As he comes closer into view I confirm that it is Edward. He is barefoot, wearing a pair of navy board shorts and apparently nothing else. I watch him run up to the beach area in front of the house. He stops and stretches for a moment, and then I lose sight of him as he moves towards the gate leading up to the houses.

When he bounds into the kitchen he is surprised to see me there, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Hey sleepy-head." He smiles. "I see you found the coffee."

I am desperately trying to regain my focus to answer him. It is one thing to see Edward partially disrobed, at a distance on the beach. But now the sight of him in front of me, the thin glistening layer of sweat across his beautifully defined body combined with the bright look in his eyes and color in his cheeks is rendering me speechless.

"How was your run?" I manage to finally squeak out.

He smiles broadly. "Great, it's a beautiful morning, perfect weather." He reaches over takes a mug and fills it with coffee. "How are you feeling this morning?" His face takes on a concerned look.

I run my fingers through my bed hair. "Well, much better than last night. I'm really sorry that I woke you up in the middle of the night, but I slept so much better after that. I hope you were able to go back to sleep."

"I slept like a baby." He smiles and watches my reaction carefully.

"Okay, well," he continues "I've already mixed up some pancake batter, so I'm going to jump in the shower and then I'll make us breakfast."

"Shower," I repeat and nod, distracted with the idea of Edward naked with water flowing over him.

"Care to join me?" he teases playfully.

_Oh, this is too much for me._ "Join you?" I grin. "Oh my Edward...my, my, my."

"My yes, or my no, Miss Bella?" He starts to back out of the room. "Last chance!" he teases and then he heads up the stairs.

.

I sit down in the booth facing the patio with my coffee and consider running up the stairs and surprising Edward in the shower, but then the darkness starts to settle in my mind, and I wonder how many of the art-whores have been in that shower with him. Suddenly the idea loses all of its appeal. But I still allow myself the luxury of picturing him in the steam, rubbing soap all over his body before the water rushes over him.

Minutes later he is back in the kitchen pulling out the griddle and various ingredients from the fridge. He seems to have a perfect command of the kitchen, which had for some reason surprised me when he had us for lunch week before last. I guess part of me assumed he was a Hot Pockets, In n' Out burger kind of guy. Instead as I look around his kitchen I note various cooking appliances that appear to be used, and a big bowl of fruit.

"Was your mom a good cook?"

"Yeah, she loved to cook and she always took me with her to the places where the local farmers come in and sell their produce. She wanted me to know how to cook too. I guess she figured it would make me more desirable to the female population."

"Like you needed help in that area!" I laugh.

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment Bella." He smiles.

After we finish stacks of pancakes with bacon and orange juice, I ask him if he has a picture of his mom that I can see. I follow him into the living room and he pulls a framed black and white print off the mantle.

"It's my favorite," he says softly as he hands me the picture. It's a photograph of Edward and his mom on the beach. He looks to be about twelve or thirteen and she has her arm draped over his shoulder. But what is striking is that the photographer caught them laughing as they are looking at each other and you can feel how much they love each other. They are both so good looking, but they aren't posing like models. They are just happy and laughing, enjoying each other.

It takes my breath away to realize that he had that, and now she is gone. From the various things he has said she obviously adored him and made choices in her life for the benefit of Edward. She was a beautiful woman, but what mattered to her was Edward and being a good mom. My mom was once like that for me. We have both lost so much.

"She's beautiful, Edward," I sigh, handing the photo back to him. "You can tell in this photo how much you two adore each other." He nods silently and carefully sets it back on the mantle.

"Is it hard for you living here since this was a place you guys shared together?" I feel bold asking him this, but everything I see in this house tells me something about Edward, and I want to learn more.

"In the beginning, the first couple of years after she died, I kept everything exactly the same. I guess it was a shrine to her, and I couldn't bear to let anything go. But then I started realizing that it was just keeping me in the state of mourning and I had to let go. At that point I changed a lot of the interior and hung new art, both mine and my friends too. All the changes made it easier." He nods as he thinks about it.

"But as for the house itself, I find comfort in the connection I have with her here. She loved this place…designed the garden, and put so much love into this house. I feel it whenever I am here."

I look into his eyes and offer him a tender smile. It hits me at that moment how much he has shared with me, deeply personal thoughts, that I imagine he has shared with very few people, if anyone else. And although he doesn't appear to be attracted to me, I take comfort in the thought that I am becoming an important friend.

I look down at my T-shirt makeshift nightgown and decide it is time to get dressed. I ask Edward where he left my clothes.

"They are in the top dresser drawer in the guestroom," he answers revealing nothing.

"I have to say Edward, I am so embarrassed that you had to change me and I didn't even wake up enough to know it." I look down.

"You should be embarrassed. That outfit was pretty damn tight…I had a hard time getting it off," he huffs. "And that lingerie…where did you go last night dressed like that anyway?"

I turn red. "I met James for drinks to talk about the book."

"You wore that to meet James?" He looks mad. I can also tell the way he is looking at me that he is making assumptions in regard to James. "What the fuck is wrong with his office anyway for meetings? You guys always go out for drinks. Is he trying to get into your pants Bella?"

I flush even more red thinking about James and his dirty talk. That is the last thing I will tell Edward about. "We've only met three times, and once was in his office!" I say defensively. "Besides what does it matter to you?"

"I just don't like it," he says angrily. "I don't trust that guy."

"That coming from such a trustworthy guy." I bark back at him.

"What the fuck does that mean?' he growls.

"Look at your track record with the art-whores. Do you care about any of them? So who are you to pass judgment on James' intentions." My anger is building and now my mouth can't stop moving. "I know what this is about. You have no interest in me but you just don't want anyone else to have me, James or anyone because then your _angel_ won't be around to watch over you." And I feel really bad as soon as I say it considering the guy just spent most of the last twenty-four hours looking over me.

He looks at me like I've just kicked his puppy.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean _that_ Edward," I say apologetically. "I'm just so confused and frustrated about things right now."

"Forget it," he mumbles.

_Great._ I can see he has shut down.

"Look, I've got work to do. So why don't you get ready and I'll drive you home. I already spoke with Jasper this morning and they are going to be back by two. Jay, the locksmith, dropped off the keys and temporary alarm code this morning."

We both remain silent as I head upstairs.

The silence continues as Edward deftly maneuvers his Porsche through the winding canyons above Malibu. By the time we are on the freeway shooting towards L.A. I am feeling like an ungrateful bitch. I finally gather up my courage to speak.

"Edward?"

Silence.

"I feel awful about what happened back at your house, the things I said...I just didn't understand why you jumped all over me for my meeting with James. But I don't care about that right now." I look over at him. At least I can tell he is listening to me.

"I can't or won't ever forget what you did for me last night. I was in such a state and you dropped everything to help me."

I smile here at the picture I've painted of his date, the assumed art whore, being dropped- _hopefully from a high elevation._

"You were so kind, and you took such good care of me. That says so much about the kind of person you are, not the famous artist, but the person you are inside."

He looks over at me. I can tell he is considering what I have just said.

So I take a chance and reach out and touch his shoulder. "I'm sorry Edward. Please forgive me for what I said."

He clears his throat. "Just so you know, Bella I think you are overstating the art-whore thing."

"Yes?" I ask gently. "So who was the girl you were with when I called you last night?" He starts to turn red.

"Did you meet her at an art opening? Were you going to sleep with her? Just saying Edward..."

"Ah, and you know me so well, Miss Swan. What have you been attending the University of Edward Masen? Do you have all your facts lined up and have you studied for mid-terms?" He gives me a wicked taunting look.

I laugh, enjoying the imagery he is evoking. "Well I guess you could say that I have been studying Ancient History in your program, and your Art History as well. The subjects I apparently am failing are Chemistry and Human Relations."

He smiles, but I still see the serious look in his eyes as he focuses on the road.

"I think we should just call a truce. But I can't help but share that as guilty as I've felt about all that you've done for me since we met, maybe last night helped even up the score a little."

"Most definitely," I agree. "But don't be expecting any paintings from me."

"Well how about if you write something for me…something about me-like for an art book? That more than evens things out."

"I'm glad you see it that way, Edward, but keep in mind that I may have to write things you will not like, and then you may change your tune about me and things being even."

"Do you mean write things I won't like about my lifestyle?" He is so frustrated.

"Yes, your reputation precedes you. It will have to be acknowledged in some way." I pause gazing out the window. "Look if this is how you want to live your life, far be it from me to question it. I guess I'm pushing because there is something about you that makes me believe you are much more than who you present. The party-boy artist who doesn't respect women…I don't think that is the man Elizabeth raised."

He is silent, but I notice his fingers tighten with a death grip on the steering wheel. We lapse back into silence for the rest of the ride.

I've stepped way over the line now.

When he pulls up to my apartment he hands me the key and alarm instructions.  
"Will you be okay?" he asks tentatively.

"Yes, I will be okay. Thanks Edward." And I reach over to hug him, pressing my face into the curve of his neck. He softens a little as I hold him.

As I step out of the car he speaks up.

"You know, Bella, regarding the subjects you are struggling with…I wouldn't say you are failing."

"Well, that's good professor. But I want an _A_. I just haven't figured out how to earn it yet." I smile, turn on my heel and head up the stairs.

.

* * *

My shout out last chapter was for The Misapprehension of Bella Swan by the brilliant HunterHunting. Every posting has me howling with laughter and worked into a tizzy…I look forward to Wednesdays now because that is the day she posts MoBS.

**So…do you think Bella should have gotten in the shower with Edward? Press the review button and let me know what you think…**


	13. Chapter 13  Get A Clue

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

Let's tip our hat to TwilightZoner who betas with grace and speed.

A huge thanks to ReaderGoof for designing a wonderful banner for Work of Art.

_**Finally my heart-felt appreciation to whomever nominated Work of Art for "Best Written Story" in the Twilight All Human Fiction Awards. Just to be grouped with such an amazing list of stories is a huge honor…I am incredibly motivated to live up to your appreciation and support.**_

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**Work of Art / Chapter Thirteen / Get a Clue **

_Those are my principles, and if you don't like them... well, I have others._

_-Groucho Marx_

Taking a deep breath I let myself back in the apartment, relieved that the alarm shuts off without a problem. I survey the living room with the fresh perspective of a new day. It makes me feel better to focus on the fact that it is a beautiful room, even with the bookshelves emptied on the floor and the furniture askew. I look up at Edward's angel painting on the mantel feeling a wave of joy that his precious gift is still there. As I start to put things away, I smile, remembering Alice's persistence in wanting to paint one of the walls turquoise and the others chocolate brown. We spent three days stenciling a paisley pattern onto the turquoise wall in a slightly lighter shade. The effect is beautiful.

Alice had found the turquoise and brown retro-rug with large sixties style flowers at ABC in New York while on a business trip, and that rug set the tone for the room. Alice has such a great design eye. Over time we've been able to upgrade our furniture from hand-me-downs to low chenille couches and an eclectic group of lamps. We also framed several of the prints various artists have given me. The overall ambience is very sophisticated. I feel slightly calmer when I finish sliding the last piece of furniture in place. At least one room is almost restored, sans a TV and computer.

As I start putting the kitchen back together Alice and Jasper come in the front door. Although Jasper has already broken the news to Alice and we had spoken on our cell phones before I left Edward's, she is still understandably freaked out.

I rush over to her and we hug tightly. "Oh, Bella," she wails, "I can't believe we were robbed. And I'm so upset you had to come home alone at night to this. You must have been terrified."

"Yeah, it was horrible," I agree, not mincing words. "I couldn't reach anyone and started coming undone, but then I called Edward and he came right over."

Alice gives me the _look_. She knows how up and down things have been between us.

"Alice, he was really great," I assure her. I look over to Jasper and he looks relieved. "Hey, Jasper." I smile at him. "Thanks for being here for Alice."

He steps up behind her and wraps his arms around her. "Anytime," he replies.

Alice starts surveying the living room to see what is missing.

"Your computer," I groan. "I'm so sorry, Alice."

"Well, thank goodness I had backed everything up on my laptop before I left for the offsite. I had done a lot of work for my presentation at home, so I backed it up literally the night before I left. That is one relief at least."

She leans back on Jasper. "And my knight in shining armor here is taking me shopping at the Apple store today." She turns towards him. "But don't forget what we talked about, Jasper; it's just going to be a loan not a gift!"

"Okay, baby, but you know I will want to be repaid with your sweet kisses." She purrs and kisses him.

These two are really making me sick. To give the mood a somber bit of reality I remind her that she should check out her bedroom and make a list of what is missing. She and Jasper head down the hallway, and a minute later I hear her yell out happily, "Yes! They're here!" She comes running out of her room with a jeweled pair of high heel sandals in her hands.

"What?" I ask perplexed.

"Lola's shoes!" she exclaims. It's her favorite pair of Manolos she loaned me for the fundraiser I had to attend last month. I was so worried they had been stolen. I wouldn't have been able to replace them since they are from two seasons ago. She would have killed me." She shakes her head solemnly.

Tinkerbell was most worried about a pair of shoes. Sometimes I have to envy her life. The largest tragedy she has suffered is not winning homecoming queen in high school. But let's face it, everyone knows life is not fair. Five years ago I was living out of my car not sure where my next meal was coming from while Alice was in college suffering through a semester abroad in Florence. If she wasn't so utterly charming and a loyal to the quick, I would probably resent her and her annoyingly perfect life.

Thankfully, Jasper has agreed to sleep over for a couple of nights until we feel settled again. After we have finished our list of stolen goods they go shopping, returning later with several large boxes. While Jasper unpacks her new computer and installs it, Alice and I do the last bit of work to get our bedrooms in order. I keep hoping as I put each item back in its place that somehow my precious box will be discovered, that in the frenzy of ransacking the thieves tossed it aside. But with the last drawer in place I have to accept the loss once more. I am grateful for Alice and Jasper's company as we order pizza and listen to music off Alice's laptop. It is no surprise that my attempt at sleep that night is dark and fitful. I fight my way through a dream where a phantom shadows me. Every time I try to escape his grasp, his spindly fingers press me back down beneath his blackened cloak.

Mid-day Sunday I remember that I haven't checked my emails since the robbery, so I flip open my laptop. Sure enough there is an email that James had sent me Friday.

_Bella,_

_You have become a source of inspiration in so many ways. I look forward to sharing the dream I had about you last night. It was beyond exquisite._

_James _

I feel my whole body flush. Was he drinking when he wrote this? Because that is how I managed to write off the scene in front of the restaurant. Maybe he is actually serious about seducing me. I just don't get it-what does he think he sees in me? Or is this just a sport, and am I the deer in the crosshairs?

He must be wondering why I didn't reply. I squirm. I better send some type of answer right away.

_James,_

_Sorry for the delay in responding. As it turns out my apartment was robbed Friday night, and with all the frenzy I haven't checked emails._

_So I am inspiring dreams... I am intrigued._

_Bella_

He responds almost immediately.

_Bella,_

_I am so sorry to hear your news. Can I do anything to help?_

_I leave for NY in the morning and am gone all week but am completely reachable via phone or email._

_Remember, whatever you need…_

_James _

I have to admit that his response is very kind.

_James,_

_I'm fine but thank you. Let's talk when you get back._

_Safe travels,_

_Bella _

As I shut down my email I realize that I'm relieved to get a break from dealing with James. Whatever his agenda is, I can't handle it right now. Instead I start to wonder what Edward is doing, and I get the idea that I should call him to thank him again for helping me Friday night.

However, when his phone picks up a woman answers. She has one of those breathy voices.

"Is Edward there?" I ask, fighting the urge to hang up on her.

"He's working in the studio," breathy voice replies.

"Let me guess," I quip back, "and he doesn't want to be disturbed."

"Uh huh."

"Okay, will you tell him Bella called to thank him again for Friday night_?" Take that art-whore._

As I hung up I felt fairly certain that Edward would never get my message, but I hoped that I fluffed up art-whore's feathers enough that she would give him a bad time anyway. _Damn him._

Monday at the gallery I try to immerse myself in my work to shake the lingering feeling of loss and violation from the robbery. Everyone is especially doting,sensing how raw I am. Rose calls after hearing the news from Carlisle, and she offers to take me out to dinner Wednesday night. It's times like this that I am so grateful for my makeshift family. Even Jacob takes me aside to check on me.

"Hey, Bella. Mike and I are going to a club tonight. Why don't you come with us?" He smiles sweetly at me.

"Who are you seeing?" I ask, not sure I am in the mood to go out anyway.

"Squalloogal is opening for the Bunker Babes at Escala. My friend Charlie Echo saw them in New York last week and said they were wild." He grins broadly.

"Hmmm, _wild_." I smile at him. "Well, let me think about it, okay? Thanks for thinking of me, Jacob."

"I'm always thinking of you, Bella." He says it lightly, almost jokingly, but deep down I know he means it.

I spend most of the afternoon working on a P.R. release for Carlisle which involves some internet research. One of the sites we follow, _RPNews_, has a write-up on the opening last Saturday night for the 30-Year Retrospective Show at the Museum of Contemporary Art. My curiosity overcomes me, and sure enough as I scan the photos I find what I am hoping not to.

This is my personal hell. _Fucking Edward_…his green eyes burn through the screen and right into my core, taunting me, torturing me. His arms are thrown around two women in very short, low-cut dresses. I read the caption: Erika Dupre, Edward Masen and Megan Wolfe. I recognize the names of the women, both infamous art-whores. I look back at the picture and I remember our conversation in the car. It's like he's throwing all of it back in my face. One of these art-whores was probably the breathy one I spoke to on his home phone Sunday.

The sting is sharp and lingering, and I hold my breath grabbing onto the edge of my desk. This picture was taken within twenty-four hours of when he had pulled me into his arms to soothe me when I couldn't sleep, the same day he made me breakfast and told me about his mother. Will my Edward torture know no bounds? I should just reach into my chest and hand him my heart so he can slice it into tiny slivers, fan it out on a silver tray then wash his hands and be done with it.

The anger lights another fire under me, so when I get home from work I make a pot of coffee, skip dinner and plow into my book project. I want to be done with this job and get off this wonky roller coaster with Edward. The tug and pull is bulldozing my confidence and my pride.

At midnight, after I've wrapped up chapter four, I decide I better email a particular section to him as I am uncertain that some of the facts are correct.

_Edward,_

_Check this section for accuracy and get back to me with any changes._

That's it, plain and simple. Read between the lines Masen-_fuck you._

Of course he emails me back within minutes.

_Are you mad at me? Why so abrupt? Are you okay?_

He's now the rocket scientist of emotions. I email him back right away.

_Yeah, I'm mad. This afternoon I stumbled upon another unseemly picture of you from Saturday. I guess it bugged me even more after everything we had talked about and the time we spent Friday and Saturday. I'm assuming the art-whore who answered your home phone on Sunday didn't give you the message that I had called either._

The inbox chimes. Before I read his reply I hesitate, imagining that he is pissed off. I can almost feel his anger singe my fingertips as I caress my keyboard. I finally open his message.

_What do you want from me, Bella? Who are you expecting me to be? Because it sounds like I am always letting you down, and that isn't good for either one of us._

I can picture him pulling his hands through his hair, his eyes squinting and his jaw set.

He's got me going, making me feel rash and impulsive. I am speeding down the highway without headlights.

_You are right, Edward. It's not good for either one of us. Let's take a break, and we can try this friendship thing another time. I'll just work directly with James and you can do the same. Thanks in advance for your help in giving me the opportunity to work on this project._

Send

_Hmmm, very dramatic and epically impulsive…_That feels satisfying for about five seconds, then I start wondering if I am truly ready to let go of _art guy_.

The Jets', _Are you Gonna Be My Girl_ starts howling out of my cell phone. _Damn, I've got to change that ring tone_. I grab the phone, and of course it's Edward. I slam the phone back down on the table without answering it. How pathetic that the very worst thing I can do to him is to not take his call. He definitely has the upper hand between us.

I watch my phone until the little mailbox blinks, and then I listen to the voicemail.

_Come on, Bella. I don't want to_ not _talk to you. I don't want to _not _be friends. Don't do this to me; don't_ not_ pick up the phone. I'm not going away that easily. You just have to make me understand what it is you want from me. Cause I sure as hell don't know what that is. Call me, Bella. Damn it, call me__**.**_

Click

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._ There is nothing like drama at one in the morning on a workday. I decide to reply via email. I attach the photo of him with his art-whores and send the following message.

_Character in the long run is the decisive factor in the life of an individual. –_

_Theodore Roosevelt_

I pause. This is pretty bitchy, but at this point what does it matter? It's not like I'm trying to figure out how to save a life or anything.

I hit _Send._

I close my eyes and imagine his reaction. I've already soaked the bridge with gasoline and thrown a simmering match on it. I stare at my screen for at least ten minutes hitting the_Receive Messages_ button every ten seconds.

Nothing.

I don't think I have ever felt so tired.

.

Tuesday his theatrics hit new heights, and I learn about them via Jacob Wednesday morning.

"Hey, Bella, look what your buddy did last night!" He sounds so pleased.

I squint at Jacob's screen. "What does that say?" I am studying a snapshot of a plate glass window with hot pink writing scrawled across it.

"Get a clue…this ain't fucking mall art," he says, reading off the screen.

"Lovely," I respond more to myself. "What's that from?"

Jacob reads the description from the news report. "_Artist Edward Masen took offense with some of the collectors' opinions that attended Sam Uley's art opening last night. He borrowed his companion's lipstick and made his feelings abundantly clear on the window of the gallery. He was escorted out by security."_

"Hey, Jacob, can you send me a link to that story?" I ask calmly. My fingers are itching to forward that gem, but it will have to wait until I am back home. Once I am at my apartment I practically run over to my laptop. First I copy the photo and description from the article on a new email addressed to _art boy_. Then I whip out my new quote.

_You can out-distance that which is running after you, but not what is running inside you. _

_~Rwandan Proverb_

About ten minutes pass and I'm halfway done heating up my Lean Cuisine when the email prompt dings.

_What happened to my ally-the one who once stood up for me against the uninformed, uneducated dregs of the art collecting community? Have you joined the other side?_

This is a clever attempt at emotional manipulation. I serve it back up.

_No Edward,_

_I applaud your sentiments and defense of Sam's work. I just think you didn't have to come off like a psycho sensationalist by scrawling (with lipstick) over a gallery window in a fit of fury. The photo of you being dragged off by security is not flattering. People will be expecting you to cut off your ear next._

I congratulate myself on my crazy artist reference.

_Well, at least I would be in good company. And things worked out pretty good for Van Gogh in terms of his place in the art world_.

He is making this too easy. That was an obvious misstep on his part.

_Yeah, but only long after he was dead. He only sold one painting during his lifetime and then shot himself to death at thirty-seven. So he isn't exactly a role model._

There is a long pause. He is probably Googling Van Gogh to make sure I didn't make that up. He changes tactics.

_This is about the lipstick, isn't it? You are jealous of the girl they wrote I was with_.

Well, of course the ass is right but I'll never admit it to him.

_Fuck you and your art-whore's lipstick._

I snap my email shut and decide to tear into the new chapter. These fits of anger are helpful in propelling me through the writing. At this rate I will be done in a few weeks.

Later that night I meet Rose at TBY's in West Hollywood for dinner. I am having trouble getting her to focus because Anderson Cooper of CNN is dining with friends at the next table, and he is one of her freebie fives, if she ever went back to men that is. I finally make her change seats with me so I am facing him. Don't get me wrong, I love Anderson, but I have other things on my mind that I need to discuss with Rose. Luckily she's the one to bring up _art guy._

"So, is Edward making you nuts yet?" she asks as she licks some salt off the edge of her margarita.

"How did you know?" I moan. "Now we aren't even talking, just having an on-going argument via email. Some days I just hate his guts."

"Those are pretty strong words, Missy." She looks concerned. "What has he done anyway?"

"I'm not even sure," I finally have to admit, "but he just has the ability to really get under my skin. He can be so sweet, like how he helped me after my robbery. But then he reverts back to his dark trashy side which pisses me off, and then we lose whatever ground we had gained getting along."

Rose nods, encouraging me to continue.

"Now that I'm hearing myself describe it, I'm making him sound worse then he actually is, but it's just hard to figure out." I pause to take a sip of my drink. "During the good times we seem to have a very powerful connection, and so I get addicted to him. It's like he is my very own brand of heroin. The highs are so damn good."

"But then…."she prompts me.

"But then when it crashes, it all goes to hell. I am finally starting to realize that maybe I can't be friends with him, but when I think of just not talking or seeing him again I feel bad. What the hell is wrong with me Rose?"

She shakes her head angrily. "This is just what I was fucking worried about. I should have just cut that guy off at the knees and stopped that book project when I could have. Damn it.

"I warned him, but Edward is so fucking stubborn. You are the perfect girl for him, Bella, and he knows it now on some level so that is really freaking him out. It's making him act out in all kinds of crazy ways. He has created a life where he never has to be dependent on a woman again. That's why he goes for the art-whores, because in a million years he would never be involved with one of them."

"Perfect for him? Well, it's not like I'm looking for a boyfriend. It's not like I am pursuing him in that way," I insist.

"I know that, and he knows it too. Look, Bella, how long have we been friends? Six years? Over all that time I have watched you turn avoidance of getting involved with anyone into a sport. It seems like ever since your mom disappeared she took with her your ability to trust or want to ever get really close to anyone again."

"I'm not going to deny that," I admit.

"Well, sometimes people can't be together and they can't be friends either. Maybe that's what it is for you and Edward. Or you guys can accept each other with all your flaws and keep trying to be friends."

"I know the real Edward," Rose continues, "and that is why I will always be his friend. But this bullshit he is going through lately is even wearing on me. I hope he snaps out of it soon."

I can tell she is holding back something she wants to say about him, but I don't press. Rose is the smartest woman I know, and I've got to trust her. Maybe this is all I can take right now.

Rose has given me plenty to think about so I'm relieved to change the subject to her upcoming trip to San Francisco.

When I get home I am all wound up from our conversation, and feeling snarky due to the three margaritas I polished off. So I sit at my computer trying to figure out a provocative email to send Edward. Something about getting Edward angry is really turning me on right now…_so much for working on our friendship_.

I look on the internet and find another quote I like. For my purposes it's a little vague yet nice and snappy.

_Have a very good reason for everything you do. _

_~Laurence Olivier_

The provocation is effective. This time he responds quickly.

_I know what all this email stalking is about, Bella. You are trying to get back at me because you are still in a tizzy about the women you imagine I am with. You want me for yourself, you just can't admit it. Poor Bella, you are secretly really into me, and you can't stand to think that you can't have me. All of this is a thinly veiled attempt to distract me so you can trap me in your web. How does it feel to want me so much?_

I am so mad the flames are leaping off my head, and that is exactly what he wants. He's no dummy. He's figured out that defending himself is ineffective so now he is deflecting.

_Don't flatter yourself, cowboy. In case you haven't noticed, I don't want to be with anyone...especially you. Also, I hate to break this to you, but even if I had a change of heart, you aren't the first one in line waiting for me. So sorry to have to let you down, but the thrill of being with me will just have to be in your head._

_But thanks for asking._

Thursday at work we have a busy morning because Carlisle wants us to re-hang the gallery, switching out some of the paintings and moving others so that it looks fresh. I never mind it when Carlisle gets inspired because it keeps things interesting.

Later, Emmett comes back from lunch with a huge grin on his face. "Bella, Carlisle and I have an early birthday present for you," he says teasingly.

_Oh no, what has the big teddy bear done?_

He hands me a small white perfect box, and my eyes instantly start filling with tears.

"Emmett," I moan quietly. I had mentioned to him yesterday about missing my music since the robbery.

"Well, a girl's gotta have her tunes," he announces as I pull a brand new iPod out of the box.

"Oh, Emmett!" I throw my arms around him and hold on tightly. "Thank you so much. You know I love you."

Thank God for Emmett. Our friendship is the most uncomplicated male relationship I've ever had.

He looks back down at me and grins. "Back at ya, babe."

I give him another hug and then go to find Carlisle to thank him too.

. ~*~

Thanks to my good mood from getting to listen to my tunes again I go easy on Edward that night with a simple quote.

_Don't bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself. _

_~William Faulkner_

By morning there still is no response. Maybe it was too lackluster of a choice. Perhaps he is tiring of the game, but I'm just getting warmed up.

Friday afternoon Rose calls with more fuel for my fire. She has just found out that Edward backed out of a group show for personal reasons. She's really pissed because in her book the only personal reason that would be okay for such action is if he had been hit by a bus. But clearly that isn't the case. She's heading over to his place now to talk to him and conduct an intervention.

Knowing this, I find a fitting new quote to send that evening right after polishing off my take-out dinner.

_Live so that your friends can defend you but never have to. _

_~Arnold H. Glasow_

After I hit send I start second guessing myself. Maybe there is a good reason he backed out of the show. I should have talked to Rose first to see how their conversation went before being snarky again. Feeling a little unsettled I decide to create a distraction so I grab a bottle of beer out of the fridge and look through my DVDs. I pull out my _Twilight Zone_ Collection. I am in the perfect mood for the eerily thought-provoking TV series from the late fifties. I pop the first disc in my laptop and kick my legs up on the couch.

About ten minutes into the second episode the doorbell rings. I look over at the clock. It's nine-thirty-what the hell? Then a wave of fear runs through me worrying that the robbers are back. Why, oh why, did Alice have a date with Jasper tonight? I need re-enforcements. The bell rings again but this time three rings in rapid succession. I decide to go look out the peep-hole to see if I need to call the police.

Through the warped perspective of the peep-hole I see Edward's big distorted head, since he is trying to look into the peep hole too. I jump back shocked. _Shit._ Is he here because of my emails? _Yikes._ I pause a few seconds then decide I better face the music, and I immediately regret the sweats and too-tight old T-shirt I changed into when I got home.

When I pull open the door he looks wired, like he has had way too much coffee, and he has dark purple circles under his eyes. He also looks nervous or edgy or a combination of both. He is slightly bobbing his head and twisting his hands together.

"Hey, Edward," I say as casually as possible. "What are you doing here?"

At first he doesn't say a thing, just looks at me like he's trying to figure me out.

"I have one question, Bella? Why are you fucking with me? Are you enjoying this? Your goddamned emails have gotten me so agitated that I can't sleep, and as a result I can't focus on anything. Do you really hate me that much?"

He is stooped over with his hands jammed in his pockets. I didn't think it was possible, but he actually looks pathetic.

"No, I don't hate you, Edward," I say quietly. "I don't know; I just couldn't seem to help myself. But hey, you've been giving it back to me too."

"I have teased you a little, not assassinated your character repeatedly," he mumbles.

_I guess I was a bit heavy handed._ I'm starting to feel bad. "I'm sorry. I obviously didn't realize that it would upset you like this."

He looks at me blankly, considering what I've just said.

"Do you want to come in?" I ask, trying to make up a little for my snarkiness. "I've got beer and great old black and white episodes of the _Twilight Zone_. I'm watching the one where the little black monster tries to get the teenage girl. The one with the mannequins coming to life is on next."

He rocks back and forth on his heels. "No, I don't want to watch the _Twilight Zone_. I'm living in the fucking twilight zone. Go get some socks and a jacket."

What? Socks and a jacket? _Art boy is kidnapping me_? I am beyond intrigued, and I look at him, raising my eyebrows in question.

"Hurry up," he demands. "We are going bowling."

.

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**Last chapter had shout outs to two great stories: _My Yes, My No_ by LolaShoes which single-handedly redeemed the reunion of Bella and Edward from New Moon in my eyes. And of course, the beautifully written_ University of Edward Masen_ of which so many of you are passionate fans.**

**To join my wonderful little family of reviewers all you have to do is click on the box below...it means so much to hear your thoughts...  
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	14. Chapter 14  Strike!

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved **

**Thank you to my beta Twilightzoner who is so much more than my punctuation whore.**

**WofA has been nominated for a Twilight All Human Award in the category of "Best Writing. The site for voting is twilightallhumanawards (dot) webs (dot) com. Many of my favorites are nominated...check it out and vote for your favorites too.**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Fourteen / Strike!**

Bowling? He stands looking at me with a completely straight face waiting for me to get my socks and jacket. Has he lost his mind? Actually I'm concerned that maybe he has, and I don't want to agitate him further.

"Ohhhhh kay," I stammer while I head to my bedroom to get my hoodie. I decide to put on the required socks so I can wear my Nikes instead of the flip-flops I have on.

I follow him down the stairs and we get in his car. After we have driven several blocks I ask, "So, where are we going bowling?"

"Burbank."

_We are going bowling in Burbank?_ Now it's getting even stranger. Despite being the home of Disney, Warner Bros. and NBC, Burbank is the closest you can get to a podunk town in Los Angeles.

I turn and watch him as he drives along. He is totally focused on the road, but I would pay money at this point to know what is going on in his head. We pull up to the Pickwick Bowling Alley and I know I have arrived in Mayberry from _The Andy Griffith Show_. I expect Opie to walk by any moment. The bowling alley is in a flat old brick building, and inside everything is aged and worn from the speckled linoleum floor to the 1950's style seating around each bowling lane. It's kind of quaint actually, and I'm glad to not have the loud music and laser lighting of the newer bowling alleys.

We go in and rent our stylish bowling shoes which are an impossibly funky suede in wide stripes of burgundy, olive green and dirty taupe. They must make them ugly so people don't try to take them home. _No way that would be happening,_ I think as I finish tying the laces. We don't have any trouble getting a lane considering the late hour. While I program the overhead projected score-card Edward, heads to the bar and buys us a couple of beers.

Other than giving me simple directions like where I can pick out a ball, and that I should go first-he really hasn't spoken to me. I'm beginning to wonder if the whole evening will be like this. I still haven't discovered the secret as to why we are here in Burbank dressed in funny shoes and sticking our fingers into different sized balls to test the fit.

I bowl the first ball. Edward watches me while chugging his beer. Unfortunately my ball goes into the gutter halfway down the lane, but I'm too unnerved by this whole scenario to be embarrassed about a gutter ball. On my next try the ball manages to roll down the entire lane at an angle and just before tipping into the gutter it takes down the corner pin. Edward writes a "1" with great flourish on the scorecard.

We trade places and he saunters over to his ball. I get a clue how this is going to go by the way he snaps the ball up and aims, his body still as a statue. Then he unfurls, and he gracefully slinks forward like a tiger-if a tiger could hold a bowling ball that is. The ball appears to be spinning as it makes contact with the wooden surface of the lane, and it shoots forward like a rocket. The resulting explosion of pins is impressive. I look back at him, and he is still dipped in position, his shoulder and arm muscles beautifully defined. He springs up and turns toward me.

"Hmmmm." I smile at him. "Looks like you could give me some pointers." _He must be a closet bowler, I_surmise.

As the game progresses I get a little better with each turn. After all, I haven't bowled in years, and it takes some getting used to. Edward's improvement as the game moves forward is in his attitude. He seems to lighten up with each play until he is finally smiling and joking with me about my unusual techniques. I overplay my goofiness at times, finally provoking him to give me a mini-lesson which involves him touching me as he moves pulls my arm back to show the right motions. At one point he even rests his hands on my hips to correct their position.

Every time he touches me it feels like the heat from his fingers is burning through my skin. When he swivels my hips forward a second time I flush and have to turn away. Who knew bowling could be erotic?

Finally after several pointers I have success. On the eighth frame, as soon as I release the ball, I have a really good feeling, and I jump up and down as the ball slides along cheering it to victory. When the ball meets the pins, there is no explosion like Edward's. Instead the pins seem to wobble and then slowly surrender one by one. When the final pin falls I let out a whoop, run over to Edward, and jump up into his arms.

He throws his head back laughing and wraps his arms around me. As I slide down his body until my feet meet the floor my victory hug becomes something else in my mind. The desire I have for this beautiful, flawed man is surging through me, and I cling onto him feeling every definition of his body against mine, his heart pounding where my cheek presses against his chest.

I don't think I have ever wanted anyone this much, and my throat is parched. I feel wetness surge between my legs. The desire is so big, so overpowering, that I would let him take me right here in the bowling alley if he wanted to.

I know he can feel all this. I imagine it is obvious. And he pulls away from me carefully as if he is afraid I will break.

"Yeah, Bella!" he smiles. " You did it…strike!"

I step away and take a deep breath. "I guess the lesson paid off," I reply, trying to sound cheerful as I struggle to regain my composure and push my desire for him out of my mind.

As we finish up our game, Edward announces that he's hungry, so we decide to go get something to eat. Once again he takes the lead, and we pull up to Dupars, a coffee shop in Studio City that has watched many decades come and go. The place is empty except for a group of goth looking kids in a booth in the back. Our waitress, Marge, wears a uniform that reminds me of an old-fashioned nurse's getup, complete with the little white cap. She has faded orange hair and tree stump legs and seems happy to serve us stacks of pancakes and bacon. We dig in with gusto.

When he is finished, Edward carefully leans back in the booth and pats his stomach contentedly. "You look like a new man," I comment, smiling at him. "If I'd known that it was this easy to make you happy, I would have taken you bowling then out for pancakes long ago."

"I know," he agrees smiling. "This was just what I needed. I'm so glad that we did it, Bella. Will you do it again with me sometime?"

"Sure, I had a great time-even though I thought you were nuts when you first showed up on my doorstep."

"Did you now? What if next time I show up in the middle of the night and want to take you for a swim?"

"Well, I would insist that the pool be heated."

He laughs. "You're pretty great, Bella. You are going to make some guy very lucky one day."

"Hmmm, maybe."

He tips his head with my response, and I can tell he is wondering that the _maybe _means.

When we get back to my apartment, it's so late that he insists on walking me to my door. Before we part he pulls me into his arms and gives me a big hug. "Thanks Bella," he sighs. And at that moment I can feel Edward: his sadness, his emptiness and his need to just be okay, to go out bowling with a friend with no other agenda. Before he lets go of me and I step into my apartment, I decide there will be no more nasty emails, no more fighting. I will resist my snarky temptations and figure out a way to be friends with Edward Masen.

. ~*~

Saturday, Alice is on a rampage since Jasper is going to be taking her to meet his family. Evidently they are extremely wealthy, and from what I deduce quite snobby, so she is desperate to make a good impression. I agree to go with her to find the right outfit, but after trying on every possible dress at Fred Segals she finally acknowledges that everything is too hip, and we head over to Nordstroms for more conservative choices.

I keep trying to reassure Alice that with her personality, beauty, and smarts they will have to love her. But her uncertainly lingers. She confides in me that Edward has been trying to dissuade Jasper from getting too involved with her. I tell her that this seems ludicrous, but evidently Edward has great influence over Jasper. I promise her I will get to the bottom of this.

I feel the anger well up in me, but I don't say anything to Alice. Why would it matter to Edward if Jasper were involved with Alice? _Damn that man is hard to figure out._ It seems to be my way with Edward…one step forward, two steps back.

Sunday I am finishing the first draft on another chapter when my phone rings.

"What are you up to, Bella?" It's my new best friend, and he sounds happy. My concerns about his interference with Alice and Jasper are temporarily set aside.

"Thinking about you," I tease… "well, it's because I'm working on your book."

"Oh, for a moment I got really excited," he jokes. "Because I was thinking about you."

"Were you?" I am flirting now.

"Yes, will you come play with me today?"

"Wow, I get offers to play with you twice in one weekend. And why do I get this honor?"

"Because you are more fun than anyone else." He flatters me, and it works.

"Okay, so what are we doing today?"

"I am going to drag you to thrift stores all over town."

"Oh, hold me back Edward! That sounds like a dream come true! Why on earth would I want to do that?"

"Cause it will make me happy, and I want your company."

"I'm such a pushover," I grumble.

"I'll be there in an hour...casual dress required."

"Okay," I respond, "but I'm expecting a good meal out of this at least."

"You bet, angel."

After he hangs up I feel an unexpected thrill, even though thrift store shopping is probably the last way I would choose to spend my Sunday.

When Edward arrives to get me he is driving an old flatbed truck I've never seen before. "It was my mom's," he explains. "She used it for hauling stuff around-like the plants she was always buying at the nursery." I nod, realizing that it makes a lot more sense to use this for our outing than his Porsche.

Edward pulls out a list of thrift stores he printed out from the Internet, and we pick the one closest to our location to visit first. From there we will head towards downtown. As we pull up to the Salvation Army, I ask him what we are shopping for.

"Paintings-and they must be hand-painted-not prints. They don't have to be good," he adds.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I definitely wasn't expecting that. "Paintings of what?"

"It could be anything. I'll know if it's right when I see it."

"Are you redecorating?" I tease him, since I know anything we find in a thrift store isn't going to hang in his home.

"Actually, I am going to incorporate the paintings we find into a new series of work I am developing. It's like how rappers sample parts of other's songs. That's why I have my camera with me," he gestures towards the case on the back seat. "The pictures I take may become part of the work as well or at least part of the story."

I am fascinated. The mind of an artist is bewildering to navigate.

When we step out of the truck he takes a picture of the thrift shop storefront. As we go inside I am hit by the sights and smells of a million disparate objects that have all once belonged to different people. There are racks of clothes and stacks of dishes and shelves of books. Everything has a forlorn look, nothing matches, and it makes me feel a little sad. It reminds me of those early days in L.A. when I frequented places like this for things that I needed.

The good thing about looking for paintings is that you can quickly scan through the store to see if there is anything for Edward to consider. This store disappoints because all we find is a framed Scooby-Doo poster and a needlepoint of a vase of flowers that is starting to unravel. Edward takes a shot of their offering and we head out.

In the second store we have better luck. Hanging crooked on the wall are several prints and paintings. Edward chooses the brown hued landscape and a large, poorly executed painting of a ship at sea. He not only takes pictures of the store but several of me paying for the painting with the cash he has handed me. He takes the receipt and carefully folds it in his wallet, explaining that it might end up in the art as well.

By the time we have snaked our way downtown we have more than a dozen painting crammed behind the seats of the truck. My personal favorite is the paint by number masterpiece of horses running across the plains, and I can't wait to see what he does with our finds. He looks not just happy…but inspired, and he keeps opening up a leather journal, making notes and doing little thumbnail sketches. I know being able to intimately watch his creative process develop is something I will always remember.

"Okay, time to feed you woman!" He smiles as he pulls into a large parking lot by the train station. I look up at the sign. "Phillipes, Home of the French Dipped Sandwich."

"Is this where we are going?" I look over at him making a face.

"Yup, I promised you good food, and you are going to get it!"

I hope he's right because when we step inside there are ten separate, really long lines of people waiting in front of the counter where you place your order. It's like a deli set-up in that once you are at the front of the line the women at the counter takes your order, makes your sandwiches in front of you, gets your drinks, and takes your money. Edward shoos me off to find a table, and I score a little wooden booth over near the vintage candy counter. There is sawdust on the floor and old-fashioned linoleum topped tables with wooden stools. The sign on the wall tells me Phillipe's has been open since 1908, and there are vintage photos of the place taken over the years. It's obvious from the framed prints that the place hasn't changed much. I smile realizing that Edward is happiest when he isn't at the fancy places with the fancy people. This is the side of him few people see.

Edward brings over a plastic tray loaded with food. Besides the French dipped sandwiches, there are little plates of macaroni salad, a slice of apple pie and two bottles of root beer.

"Just one piece of pie?" I tease.

"I thought we could share," he says smiling.

After we unload the tray I take a bite of the sandwich and roll my eyes with pleasure. "Mmmmmmm!" I moan.

"I know, great huh?" He laughs, looking delighted. "Wait until you try the pie."

"You know all the good places, Edward."

"Well, when I was in high school I had friends from all over the city, so I learned about a lot of cool places. I will have to take you to Chinatown some day for dim sum."

"Sounds good to me," I agree.

Halfway into the sandwiches he starts asking me about Carlisle's print studio. It seems he is thinking about doing a serigraph print to coincide with the museum show in Barcelona this summer. He explains that other than some simple printing in college, he doesn't have experience with serigraphs. So I tell him how I help Jacob in the studio, and I explain the process in more detail.

Essentially each color in the art is screened onto fine art paper one at a time. So if there are forty colors in a piece, each print will run through forty passes until it is complete. Once he chooses an image, it will take two to four days for Jacob to do the color separations of the image. A different screen will have to be created for each color in the artwork.

Edward asks a lot of questions, and I assure him that Carlise's studio is very respected in the art publishing world. Most places have converted to mechanical serigraphy, but Carlisle still insists that we do it by hand, and this appeals to Edward. He asks if we can attend the printing.

Since each color has to dry before the next is applied, you can only run a few colors a day but I tell him that he can be there as much as he wants to be. Some artists have even hand-embellished prints during the process to make each one unique, and his eyes light up with that idea.

When it's time to tackle the pie he changes the topic of conversation.

"So one thing I can't figure out Bella…" he asks while fork fighting with me to get the next bite of apple pie, "why don't you have a boyfriend?"

"A boyfriend?" I tip my head, puzzled why he is asking this now.

"You know, a guy who is your only one-who you are involved with-who you are madly in love with."

"Oh, one of those," I reply coyly. "I don't know."

"I mean you are beautiful, smart and fun, and like you said in your email…guys are lined up waiting for you." He smiles.

"Okay, let's forget those emails. I promise not to send them anymore." I look down and lick the apple goo off my fork. "I guess I'm emotionally stunted. I seem to have lost the ability to give my heart away."

"Do you get lonely?"

"Do I seem lonely now?" I smile. "No, I have more than enough going on to keep me happily occupied."

"What about sex?" He looks a little nervous asking this.

"Ah, this is what you are digging at!" I exclaim. "You want to know if I have secret luvers at my beck and call." He raises his eyebrows waiting for my answer. "I'll never tell, Mr. Masen. I'll never tell."

I am such a fucking tease. But just because I know too much about my new BFF's sex life doesn't mean he has to know about mine. Besides, recently it has been a lot less dynamic than his…unless you count James' dirty word play.

"What about you, Edward?" I quickly turn the tables. "You told me a while back you weren't into relationships. Do you think you will ever change your mind about that, or are you going to continue down the swinging single path?"

"I don't know," he answers cryptically. "I guess time will tell."

As we get in the car to head home, I start feeling sad that our day together is coming to an end. When we are away from all the bullshit Edward and I really have fun together. He is quiet as he drives, and I wonder if he is thinking the same thing.

I pick up his camera case from the floor and ask if I can check it out, and he nods yes. So I zip it open, and carefully pull out his camera. I start checking out all the dials and modes. "This is a great camera," I comment as I look through the lens. "Where did you get it?"

"Samy's Camera. It's over on Fairfax between Farmers Market and the museum. Why?"

"Oh, I'm already missing my camera that was stolen in the robbery." I realize that I sound sad bringing up that memory. "I'm trying to save up money to buy a new one. I have a savings account but I've been trying not to spend that money so that I always have a back-up since it's just me now. Anyway when I've saved enough I'm going to get a new one." I switch the camera to the view setting. "Do you mind if I look at what you shot today?"

He hesitates for a second and looks uncomfortable, and I almost retract the question, but then he quietly replies "Okay," so I start clicking through the images. He has shot a lot-more than I would have guessed-not just the outside of the stores and the art we found, but candids of people shopping, close-up of stacks of hats and toys. "Do you always shoot that much?" I ask.

"Yeah, that's how I like to work," he answers thoughtfully. "It is so easy to delete images after the fact, and I don't want to miss something in the moment." As he is talking I begin to realize something. There are pictures of me…not just the ones I was aware of like when I paid for the paintings, but all kinds of shots of me, close-ups and long shots that he must have taken when we were on our own looking for things.

As I flip back and forth through the images, my heart speeds up because there is something so intimate about what he has done here. In one close up of my face I am looking up and biting my lip. The illumination from the window is brushed across my face from light to shadow, and I look surprisingly pretty. Is this how he sees me?

Why did he shoot all these pictures of me? Does it mean anything or am I letting my imagination get the best of me? I shut the camera off and quietly put it back in its case.

"Will you give me an advance preview of your paintings from this series when they are done?" I ask. He smiles and nods, watching me closely, but I don't give anything away.

When we pull up to my house there isn't any parking on the street so he double parks while I unbuckle my seatbelt.

"Thanks, Edward." I grin at him. "That was a really great day." I lean over and hug him. We both hold the hug a little longer…I suppose because he doesn't want the day to end either. As I start to open the car door he speaks up suddenly.

"Wait, Bella." He reaches down for his camera case. I sit still and watch him as he takes out his camera and slides open the plastic flap underneath its body and pulls out the tiny flash card which he puts in his shirt pocket. Then he unzips the front pocket of the case and pulls out a new flash card and slides it in the now vacant place. He clicks it shut, puts the camera back in the case and hands it to me. My mouth drops open.

"What, Edward?"

"I want you to have it, Bella." He smiles at me warmly. "I'll give you the manual and recharging cord next time I see you."

"But it's your camera," I gasp.

"Now it's yours. I want you to have it. Please don't fight with me about it."

I start getting choked up.

"Besides, I have to go to Samy's next week, and I'll get another one then. I was already thinking about getting the new model, so it all works out."

"But Edward, this is an expensive camera."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Here's the deal…how about next week you take me out to Huntington Gardens in Pasadena? It's so great in the spring-everything is in bloom. So bring your camera, I'll bring my new camera and we'll take some shots." He smiles. "Deal?"

I sit for a moment holding the camera case tucked into me like a running back holds a freshly caught football. It's almost too much, him being so nice to me….this side of him is too wonderful, and it takes my breath away. I am fiercely fighting back a wave of emotion.

I take a deep breath and calm myself. "Thank you, Edward…thank you so much."

"You're welcome, Bella."

I open the door, and as I step out I turn back to him once more.

"You know, Edward if you keep being this nice to me, it's going to be hard to get rid of me."

"I'm counting on that," he counters. I smile as I shut the door and watch him pull away, my eyes following his car until it is a tiny silver dot on the horizon.

.

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**Last chapter was a shout out marathon. Thanks for those of you that reviewed and shared your favorites too. But the good news for those of you that find them distracting or annoying is they will be tapering off soon as sadly I just don't have much time for reading new stories while doing the writing if I want to update frequently.**

**Soooooo…Bella and Edward's layers are getting peeled back and we are getting a taste of the real Edward. Yet there is so much hesitation still on both their parts. What do you think it's going to take for them to realize they are meant to be together?**

**Good or bad, I love your reviews…it's what keeps me going with this story…thanks!**


	15. Chapter 15  Hello Kitty

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved **

**Thank you to my beta Twilightzoner and Farkle for polishing off the rough edges.**

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****Work Of Art / Chapter Fifteen / Hello Kitty **

"Well, Bella your influence knows no bounds," booms Carlisle at Monday morning's meeting.

I look at him, startled. "Influence?"

"Yes. Jasper called me this morning about printing an edition for Edward Masen. It may be the first in a series."

More projects for the studio… "That's good news, right?"

"Absolutely!" Carlisle exclaims. "We want to develop a reputation of printing younger artists as well as the established artists we built our reputation on. This is very good news."

"So what does this have to do with Bella?" Jacob asks warily.

"Well, Jasper informed me that Masen only wants us to do the project if Bella is involved in all the printing," Carlisle explains.

Jacob all but growls at that pronouncement. He takes it as personal affront.

"And…" Carlisle continues, "Masen wants to be present during some of the printing. He may explore doing some remarqing and manipulation on the prints."

"Ohhhhhhh, Bella!" Emmett exclaims. "Looks like you have a not-so-secret admirer!"

I make a face at Emmett, all but telling him that he really isn't helping the situation.

"No," I try to deflect the assumptions. "We were just talking about serigraphy the other day, and I spoke very highly of the studio. He may have just assumed that I would be involved with printing. I can tell him that isn't necessary."

"When were you with him to have this talk?" Jacob snaps.

Carlisle ignores him and addresses me. "No, I want you to be there with Jacob. If it makes Edward more comfortable having you there, it only makes sense for us to do that. You usually help Jacob anyway on more complicated print runs. I have the original in my office, and I estimate it's easily fifty colors."

Carlisle looks at Jacob. "I told Jasper that with our schedule it would take you at least a week to do the color separations but that we could probably start printing next week. So give me an update after you've analyzed it."

Jacob leans back, defeated, but I know this isn't the last time I will hear his opinion on this situation. I can only imagine his mood when we start the actual run with Edward in the studio. _Fireworks, anyone?_ I dread the idea of it but hold onto the hope that it won't be as bad as I'm imagining right now.

When the meeting ends, I help Emmett hang three of Rose's newest paintings. One of them is a huge canvas of Jittz Pattz performing in Times Square, and it is a riot of hot colors from flaming oranges, sultry reds, and electric yellows. I am thrilled, for, as I study the crowd in the background, I realize she has included all of us dancing from that night in New York-we are now immortalized in Rose's painting.

I purposely give her new work the prime spot in the gallery, on the pristine white wall that you face as soon as you step inside. I also like this location because at night the art is lit and is visible through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls that face Robertson Blvd. The gallery has a wonderful design aesthetic. The architectural lines are well thought out, and the natural light is soft and flattering to the art. The polished cement floor has just a hint of gray-blue stain that is warmed up by the state-of-the-art gallery lighting. Carlisle has impeccable taste, and the gallery is his pride and joy.

. ~*~

That afternoon, as I'm heading to Starbucks for my caffeine re-fueling, my cell phone rings and I see it's James.

"Hi, James. How was your trip?"

"Bella." He sounds happy. "It was a good trip, thanks…very productive." He gets right to the point. "Have you made progress on the book?"

"Yes," I confirm, rather relieved that the seductive James of the other night seems to still be out of town. "I finished two more sections. Shall I email them to you?"

"Yes, please do that." He pauses. "Look I have some news that you will undoubtedly find unsettling, but don't worry, we will figure out a way to manage it."

My heart starts sinking while I wait for him to continue. "Yes?" I prompt him.

"The Museum in Barcelona called, and they want to move Edward's show up to July. It seems that they had a dramatic confrontation with the artist from the original scheduled show for this time, and they banned him from the museum. Leave it to the Spaniards to be so dramatic," he scoffs.

"This is completely unheard of in the museum world, but we can probably pull it off if we get the book on press in about four weeks. This will require putting your part of the project on an accelerated schedule. To accomplish this, I am going to team you up with my best and brightest editor, Victoria. She'll be of immeasurable help in guiding you to achieve what right now may seem impossible."

I am honestly too stunned to be frightened. "So you really think we can do this?" I ask, my voice betraying my significant degree of hesitancy.

"I know you can, Bella,." he states firmly. Whether he actually means that or is saying it just to boost my confidence, the resulting conclusion is that _where there is a will there is a way._We'll just have to get it done.

As I wait for his next directive, I hear someone speaking to him in the background, and he pulls the phone away and replies, "Tell them I'll be right there. Sorry, Bella. Listen, I need to go, and I'm looking at my schedule the next two weeks and it is completely crazy." He lowers his voice. "But I'd like to see you. There's an event at the Getty this Friday…if you are free I thought you could join me."

"I'd like that," I reply, not exactly sure that's what I mean but he has caught me off guard. Attending an art opening at the Getty with James could be a tense situation. Because he is so well known in the art world, I would be under all kinds of scrutiny just being with him. That's the kind of attention I usually try to avoid. It's interesting that he doesn't seem worried about that.

"Good. Let's have some dinner first and then head over. It's not formal but dressy works, not casual."

He's read my mind…wondering what I should wear. He is nothing if not thorough.

"Jane, my assistant, will contact you about specifics. And Victoria is flying back from meetings in Seattle as we speak, so she'll contact you first thing in the morning about the book project."

When we hang up, I push the new deadline out of my mind and instead distract myself wondering if I will be finally be hearing about his dream on Friday. _Oh my._

Back at the gallery I hand Emmett his blended mocha, and he reminds me that I am coming with him to a charity event tonight. His boyfriend, Ted, is one of the hosts for a fundraiser for the Pet Rescue Initiative. "Demitri's going to be there," he taunts me, as he can't resist the impulse to set me up with his endless supply of metrosexual men he knows through his business dealings.

"I saw Demitiri at the nail salon getting a pedicure," I grumble. "Now I can't shake the image out of my head. You're going to have to find someone a little more macho for me, Emmett," I insist.

Of course we are playing with each other. He gave up on trying to set me up years ago.

"Okay, Bella, but I want sexy tonight-a short skirt and those Jimmy Choo heels I got you for your birthday. "

"Ah, Emmett, you'll make a diva out of me yet," I tease.

When he picks me up that evening he lets out a low whistle as I playfully model for him. Alice has lent me her black skirt with swirls of silver beading which is a little shorter than I'd like due to our height difference, but it does show off my legs. I matched it with a fitted V-neck black silk sweater and Emmett's shoes. Well, I actually mean the Jimmy Choo shoes Emmett gave me…but I know he would secretly wear them if he could.

As we enter the charity event I am grinning ear to ear, and I'm immediately sorry that I didn't bring Alice along. Evidently Sanrio was one of the major sponsors of the evening, because the party is a Hello Kitty wonderland. The first clue is that there's a life-size Hello Kitty as you walk through the entrance, and we stop to have our picture taken with her in all her furry glory. Inside, girls dressed in tiny tank dresses embellished with rhinestone Hello Kittys serve pink Kitty Cosmo martinis.

Emmett and I wander around taking it all in. There is a silent auction section with baskets of goods to bid on from various donations. It's entertaining to see you can bid on everything from botox shots to a walk-on part on _Glee._ The bids for courtside seats and signed basketballs from the Lakers are already fetching over a thousand dollars and there is high bidding on most of the items. Looks like the evening is already a success.

Emmett locates Ted, and I'm thrilled to finally meet him. He is handsome and quite charming, and I smile seeing Emmett glow as they stand together. We chat for a few minutes, but then Ted gets prompted that he is needed for an interview with ABC. He graciously excuses himself, and I give Emmett an enthusiastic "thumbs up."

We move into the next soundstage. There is a Japanese girl-band playing onstage and clusters of tables with Hello Kitty themed centerpieces. The far wall is brightly lit, and we walk over to discover a wall of different Hello Kitty paintings. The mini-show is called _Hello Kitty the Muse: Twenty Artists Interpret the World's Most Famous Cat._The artwork is fun and irreverent and nothing that will ever end up in MOMA. One image of Hello Kitty as an angel is rendered entirely in glitter. Another that looks computer generated is of Hello Kitty in space wearing an entire astronaut spacesuit complete with an oversized bubble helmet. My favorite is Hello Kitty the princess, as her crown is encrusted with real rhinestones and colored gems. I sorely wish I could buy it for Alice.

When Ted finally takes the stage to welcome everyone, he speaks eloquently about the efforts of the eight Pet Rescue agencies that this event is funding. By the time he's done, I'm ready to visit a rescue facility and bring one of these sweet animals home. But despite my buzz from the Kitty Cosmo, I remember that our apartment doesn't allow pets, and with my schedule I probably wouldn't pass the screening anyway

At the end of the evening they hand us goody bags full of treats for humans and their little furry friends. There is a rhinestone Hello Kitty collar, a Jody shaped tin (Jody being Hello Kitty's dog friend) full of Robbie Dawg organic dog biscuits, and a adult sized rhinestone T-shirt and embroidered handbag. I decide to give Alice the T-shirt and handbag, and I'm going to keep the box of Godiva chocolates shaped in kitty and puppy heads that are also in the goody bag.

Outside we wait in a long line until the valet pulls up in Emmett's Saab. He pushes a button so the sunroof opens, and I look up at the silver crescent moon hanging in the sky.

"Wow, that was really something, Emmett. I didn't expect that party to be so entertaining."

He smiles broadly. "Yeah, those charity events can be sooo boring, but Ted really knows how to do things right. The Sanrio-Hello Kitty tie-in was his idea."

"Well, he's impressive. You two look really happy." I smile warmly at him.

"You know, I was starting to think I would never meet Mr. Right. And then when I finally give up on the idea and made peace with being alone, he falls right into my lap!" He shakes his head. "I still can't believe it."

He looks over at me.

"What about you, Bella? You can't be single forever even though you seem set on the idea. What about Edward Masen? Do you have any interest in him?"

"Well, we are becoming pretty good friends."

"Friends?" His smile turns down. "Does he have a girlfriend or something?"

"No, but he's not interested in me that way."

Emmett's eyebrows shoot up. "Okay, let me get this straight…he's single, he's hot, and he likes spending time with you, but he's not interested in you that way. I don't buy it. He must be into you Bella."

"You are such a man, Emmett. Things aren't always that black or white. Like I said, I know he likes me as a friend-I just don't think he is attracted to me. "

"Not attracted to you? Oh please! Listen, Missy, must I remind you that I have a bit more relationship experience than you? You're a dream girlfriend; you're gorgeous, sexy, smart, strong, fun, sweet and you have a huge heart. I will also point out that those last two attributes are hard to find in this town combined with the first five. Hell, if I were straight, I'd have you married and pregnant by now!"

I blush at his overstated compliments regarding my virtues, and I snicker at the idea of Emmett and I married. Now that would be a comedy.

"When was the last time he was in a relationship?" He asks as he turns onto Sunset Blvd.

"Evidently, years ago; I do know that whatever happened messed him up."

"I see, and he knows you would never be an art-whore…so he respects you. And what about the fact that you are writing his book?"

"What about it?"

"It would be risky to get involved with you in the middle of the project."

"Oh, you are full of excuses for Edward. What about the excuse that he doesn't feel the chemistry or the connection that I do. Maybe he is only attracted to art-whores. The only time he showed any of that type of interest in me he was drunk and confused."

"Chat all you want, girlfriend, but I'm still not buying it. So Mr. Masen may be taking his time…he may be working other things out, but take my word…he will come around."

A cool breeze whips through the car and I shiver, so Emmett flips on the heat.

"I overheard you mention to Esme that you're going to the Getty opening Friday night. Are you going with Masen?"

"No, actually I am going with James Alistair," I reply casually.

"Alistair from _ArtForum_?" he asks.

"Yup." I quickly add, "I've been working on the text for Edward's book for him."

"Yeah…" he responds with suspicion in his voice. "But that doesn't mean you go to fancy events like this together. Is he into you Bella?"

I want to deny it, but it is hard to lie to Emmett. "Well, let me just say that he's attracted to me…so I will answer yes-he's into me. I'm still not sure how I feel about him though."

Emmett lets out a low whistle. "Ah, what a tangled web you are weaving, darling. Isn't James a little old for you? Have you slept with him already?"

"No." I look over at Emmett and consider what I want to say next. "But if I tell you something, will you promise to keep it a secret?"

"Sure." He nods, looking serious.

"He has talked to me about what he wants to do to me." I swallow and continue, "And I mean he was very specific."

"Ohhhh, dirty talk, how hot!" Emmett growls. "Did it turn you on? I mean are you at least attracted to him?"

"Well, he sure as hell surprised me, but I have to admit it turned me on. I don't know how to handle it though, because he certainly isn't someone I see being involved with, and just sleeping with someone in his position isn't a good idea either." I realize as I look over at Emmett that it's a relief to have someone to talk this through with.

"Yeah, I can see how that complicates things. Of course this is L.A., and everyone sleeps with everyone. It is how business is done. Well, just be careful, Bella baby. Take your time until you know what's best for you."

Right as we pull up to my apartment he states the greatest truth of this mess. "Too bad you can't combine James and his hot desire for you with Edward and your friendship and his stunning looks…then you would really have the dream boyfriend."

"You've got that right," I agree and sigh as I hug him goodnight.

When I let myself back in my apartment, I notice a trail of clothes starting from the couch trailing down the hallway to Alice's room. It looks like Alice is having her own kind of fun this evening. Perhaps they are in a festive mood due to Jasper's parents' approval of her.

I decide the safest place to be is my bedroom, so I change into my p.j.s and set up my laptop in bed with the intention of getting a little work done on the book. But just as I get my focus and begin typing, things start getting loud in Alice's room.

"Oh, baby!" I hear Jasper moaning over and over, a little louder each time. "You want me, don't you, baby," he growls next and it freaks me out. "Do you want me to fuck you now?"

"Yes!" I hear Alice yell, and it's alarming how loud that little thing is. "Please ,Jasper, please give it to me…fuck me, baby, come on, fuck me hard!"

_Okay, I really didn't need to hear that._ I quickly whip out my iPod and put on The Kings of Leon-loud. I am relieved that the music almost drowns out the yelling, but then my headboard starts jerking forward as I'm trying to type. _What the hell?_ I set my laptop down and take out my ear buds to investigate. Sure enough, Jasper must be fucking her hard because they are slamming into the wall over and over to an unrelenting rhythm. The framed photographs over my bed are bouncing so hard I start lifting them off the wall so they don't crash down.

I close my laptop, giving up on getting any work done, and pull my bed away from the wall. My bed's bouncing stops, but the noise is still an issue so I find Cheri the Yoga Goddess's relaxing meditation recording on my iPod and put that on, hoping to eventually fall asleep. I end up having to press a pillow against each side of my head to drown out the sex noise, since playing the mediation really loud would pretty much defeat the purpose of trying to relax.

As I lay there, fuming but desperately trying to find my inner peace, I realize how jealous I am of Alice and Jasper's unabated passion. I have to be honest with myself, no matter how much I have been trying to deny it. If Edward was my wallbanger and I was under him getting fucked like that, I wouldn't care if we took that wall down-roommate or not.

. ~*~

The next day is slower at the gallery, and I find myself thinking about Edward too often for my own good. I wonder if he has purchased a new camera yet and if we are still going to Huntington Gardens this weekend. I also am really curious if he has started working on the series that is going to incorporate the thrift shop paintings. I can't wait to see what he does with them.

I also wonder if he will be at the Getty event on Friday and what he will think when he sees me with James. An even greater dread is wondering, if he comes, who I might see him with. My mind reels with the possibilities.

So that evening as I work on revising a section of my writing for his book, my computer tings with an email prompt, and I excitedly see it is from Edward. It is titled _Bella Sunday._ I hold my breath as I double click on the message.

Evidently he has sent an image, and it must be high res because it slowly reveals itself starting at the top of my screen. _Is it my impatience or is this taking minutes?_I want to shake my laptop and hurry it up.

It is a black and white photograph, and from the top of the picture that is now revealed I can see a textured, hand-painted look on the edging of the image. He must have gone in and manipulated the file. There are even hints of color washed into the black and white. I see the top of a head first and then a forehead with a wave of dark hair. I take a sharp breath…_it's me._

Next come my eyes, large and bright, their corners crinkled happily. I didn't realize my lashes looked so full. Next comes my unremarkable nose, but when I finally see my lips I smile, remembering how my dad called me rosebud when I pouted because of my lips. Edward has caught me mid-smirk holding back a laugh as my hands delicately frame my face.

I can't remember why my hands are in this position, but it might be right before I covered up my face. I am looking right at him, so this is a shot I must have been aware he was taking. There is a flirty playfulness in my expression, and it reminds me how happy I felt that day.

When I finally get to see the bottom of the photo I notice he has written something underneath.

_Bella, Sunday…,_

_No one, not even the rain has such small hands._

_e.e. cummings_

I fall back on the couch moaning. This guy is killing me. How can I possibly stay friends without any benefits with a guy who does this to me? Surely he knows what he is doing to me.

I email him back.

_Subject: a perfect day_

_Edward,_

_The title of Somewhere I have Never Traveled is an apt description for our adventure last Sunday._

_Did you know this is my all-time favorite poem?_

_Thank you for my picture. You have such a talent for bringing out the best in me._

_Bella_

He responds quickly.

_Yes, a perfect day._

_And without a doubt you bring out the best in me._

_I'm glad you like your picture. That is how I see you-beautiful, mysteriously textured and layered._

_Are we still on for Huntington Gardens on Saturday? Jasper wants to come and bring Alice. I could pick you up at eleven. Don't forget to bring your camera._

_E_

I pause before I reply. How should I respond to this unbelievably sweet email? I decide to be brief.

_I'll be ready._

_Until then,_

_Bella_

And as I try to refocus on my work, I can't push this version of Edward out of my mind. This Edward is everything I want and evidently everything I can't have. The resulting agony has become part of me It flavors the tone of my voice and sears the edge of each breath. And I carry it close to me like a wounded animal I am intent on saving.

.

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**WofA has been nominated for a Twilight All Human Award in the category of "Best Writing. The site for voting is twilightallhumanawards (dot) webs (dot) com. Many of my favorites are nominated, check it out and vote for your favorites.**

**A big Hello Kitty kiss to all of you that review!**


	16. Chapter 16  Check Please

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved **

**Thank you to my beta Twilightzoner and all of you wonderful readers out there who have recommended Work of Art-it means so much to me.**

**WofA has been nominated for a Twilight All Human Award in the category of "Best Writing.  


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**Work of Art / Chapter Sixteen / Check Please **

My cell phone rings at eight a.m. sharp, and I study it warily, not recognizing the incoming number. When I receive the call I am greeted sharply, "Bella? Victoria, from _ArtForum_…James asked me to call."

"Yes, hi, Victoria," I say as I stretch out my arms. "James explained the situation to me yesterday with the deadlines being moved up. He said you would be working with me to get the text done."

"Yes," she huffs. "I've read what you have submitted so far, and we have a lot of work to do. James also said I need to work around your day job. I am booked the next couple of nights. How about Saturday?"

_Uh oh…_ I'm not liking her bitchy tone. "Ah, actually Saturday I am busy, but I'm free Sunday."

She sounds irritated. "Okay, Sunday. Why don't you come over here at ten a.m. That way I can get in an early Pilates class before we meet. I'll email you the address."

"Okay, I'll look forward to it," I lie unabashedly. _Pilates early Sunday morning? Why would you do that when you could sleep in?_ She must be a case. This sounds like it could be potentially hellish. But I resolve that working with her is a means to an end, and I need to get this project done.

. ~*~

Rose has been feeling lonely since Lauren had to go out of town for a film shoot, so I offer to bring dinner over and hang for a while. I stop at Chin Chins on the way over and get an assortment of Chinese food since that is Rose's favorite.

When I get there she is still in her studio working, so I stretch out on a burgundy velvet chaise not far from her easel. Like everything else in the studio, the chaise is splattered with paint, so I run my hand over it to make sure all the paint is long dry before I stretch out. I love the chaos of her studio. She easily has a hundred reference photographs haphazardly pinned up over her desk and at least a dozen paintings in various stages of completion around the studio.

But that is just the beginning-to walk into Rose's studio is to enter a mad-hatter's warehouse. There are numerous strands of paper lanterns criss-crossing the ceiling and a 1950's mannequin in the corner wearing an elaborate feather headdress and nothing else. There are garden gnomes, beach balls, empty birdcages and several pinball machines. A hammock hangs in the corner, suspended from the ceiling. In the opposite corner is a nine-foot-tall Bob's Big Boy figure that someone must have kidnapped from the front of a restaurant. There is an antique rocking horse, a bobble head collection, and strands of Mardi Gras beads draped on every surface.

For a long time I was tempted to nominate Rose's studio for one of those home organization shows on reality TV that clean out your house while publicly humiliating you. But eventually I learned that the eclectic clutter inspired Rose, and far be it from me to slow down her prolific output. She did admit to me one time however that Lauren was a minimalist, and she would break out in hives if she spent longer than a minute in Rose's studio.

Lauren is on an extended film shoot on the island of Kauai in Hawaii, and Rose had considered joining her for part of the stay so she could do some plein-air painting at some of the lush locations on the island. The idea was appealing because that would be a huge change of pace from her current work. But when she realized it was the rainy season there and Lauren would be on shoots for long hours, she decided to stay behind in L.A. and keep working. It's hard for them to be separated though.

I notice an intriguing painting secured into a smaller easel. It appears to be a woman from the shoulders up with her head thrown back so her hair is streaming behind her. The saturated colors from the blurred background are also woven into her long hair. "Is this finished?" I ask. It looks finished to me.

She tips her head looking at it. "Oh, you know what Picasso said." She arches her brows. "A painting is never finished…it just stops in an interesting place."

"Good 'ol Picasso—he was brilliant." I smile.

"Yeah, Picasso knew his shit." She nods in agreement. "Anyway, I don't think that baby is quite interesting enough yet. That's why it's still on the easel."

_How can you not be in awe of the creative process?_ I ponder. "So, Rose, how did you decide to be an artist?"

"Oh, the decision was made when I slipped out of the womb," she says, smiling. "I never had a choice. It was all I ever wanted to do."

"So you always knew?" My voice is full of admiration and envy.

"Yup, always."

I sit quietly watching her work for a while. She is adding detail to a small area of the canvas, and her focus is absolute.

Eventually my attention wanders, and I notice new modular shelving on the far wall which already holds cans of brushes, jars of paints, and a dizzying array of small props-everything from what appears to be a human skull to a Peanuts metal lunchbox featuring Charlie Brown and Snoopy.

"Are those shelves new? I don't remember them."

"Yeah, Edward helped me get those up today. They had been lying in parts on the floor for two weeks, and he is so good at that shit. Besides he hates that I always have crap all over my floor so he had an agenda."

"Edward?" I ask, amazed that he would take the time to do that for Rose.

"Yeah, he was being interviewed for a documentary at a studio on Melrose this morning so we met for lunch, and then he came by and helped me."

"I'm surprised," I reply honestly.

"Oh, he's not always an asshole." Rose laughs. "Sometimes he can be a real sweetheart. As a matter of fact he was going to help me with some more stuff, but then Jasper called and needed to meet with him right away about a new gallery show."

As I sit it occurs to me that Edward is a lot busier than I even realized. "Does he always have a lot of meetings and interviews Rose?"

"Frankly, I don't know how he has time to paint anymore. He is the hot guy so everyone wants a piece of him. He told me he ends up painting late into the night, and then he hardly gets any sleep." She shakes her head with a scowl on her face. "That isn't good. It's really wearing him down. I was really worried about him a couple of weeks ago. I thought he was losing it. But he seemed better this week so I don't know…maybe he's okay."

Rose stops painting, and as she cleans the brushes I go inside to set out the food so we can eat. Rose's kitchen is surprisingly streamlined except for the backsplash above the counter which she custom designed. It is a swirling mosaic of tiny pieces of broken tile and glass beads with a small tiny action figures rising out of the grout in sporadic areas. It was Lauren's tradeoff for the pristine granite countertops she wanted. The entire house reflects a series of compromises between them, and they have made it all work.

As we dive into our vegetable fried rice with tofu, spring rolls, almond chicken and chow mien noodles, Rose excitedly tells me that she and Lauren are moving ahead with their plans for a wedding. Edward has generously offered to let them use his house in Malibu as long as they promise to keep the guest list under seventy-five. They plan to do the ceremony on the beach and then the party at the house.

"Bella, I was serious before. Will you be my maid of honor for the wedding?"

I leap from my chair and throw my arms around her. "Of course, Rose! I am so flattered that you want me to do it."

"Well, you know you are the baby sister I always wanted," Rose says affectionately. And you were always supportive of Lauren and me even when our other friends didn't believe in us."

"And look at you now!" I affirm.

"Yes, I am one lucky bitch." She smiles. "Oh, and one important detail…no fucking wedding showers! Okay, Bella?" She is beyond adamant. "A group of us can do a spa day or something at Burke Williams but no idiotic shower."

"Understood." I grin. It's good to throw out tradition once and while, and what better place than a lesbian wedding?

As I gather my things to head home, Rose asks me how it is going with Edward's book.

"You know he talked about you a lot at lunch today," she mentions casually.

"Hopefully nothing too awful." I grimace.

"No, he seems to think you have a unique effect on him. He says he's happier when you're around. I don't know what that means exactly, but I'm glad to know he is spending time with someone who is a good influence, not a druggie art-whore who is trying to suck the life out of him."

"Yeah, well, he goes off on a tangent sometimes like I'm his savior or something, but I don't worry about that since we really seem to be getting along lately. Besides, I may not have much free time to see him or anyone in the next few weeks. The book project has just been moved up two months, and Sunday I am working with James' prize editor to get things lined up. She's some bitchy broad named Victoria. I don't think it's going to be a fun time."

"Victoria…what is her last name?" Rose seems to have an idea about Victoria.

"I'm not sure yet, but I think she is going to be tough to work with."

"Well, let me know after you meet, because I used to know a whack job-bitch named Victoria. She worked in publishing out here until she finally moved away."

. ~*~

The next night I feel a little beat-up in my writers' group for not submitting a new story, but they ease up when they hear about my book deadline moving up. Why do I still feel like a failure? Someday I hope to learn how to give myself a break and not always be so critical of myself. So when I get home I decide I need the comfort of my flannel p.j.'s and a bowl of chocolate ice cream to lift my spirits before I get back to work.

I have been staring at my laptop screen for at least ten minutes without a single thought or idea entering my mind when my cell phone begins blasting Muse's _Supermassive Black Hole_… _God I love that song,_ I laugh with secret delight. And my smile only brightens as I see Edward's name on the screen.

"Hey, Edward."

"Bella, what 'cha doing?"

"Thinking of you again." I pause for dramatic effect. "Seriously though, I am supposed to be working on your book, and I think I'm having writer's block."

"I'm that inspiring," he teases.

"Yes, surely this is all your fault," I tease back.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better I'm going through the same thing tonight," he offers. "Actually not writer's block…for me it's artist's block. I've been looking at this canvas for over an hour and haven't felt inspired to commit brush to paint to canvas yet. He clears his throat. "I know, why don't you paint this canvas for me, and I'll write for you!"

"That would be rich." I laugh. "Stick figures are about as far as I ever got with my drawing skills, _art guy."_

"Don't knock that idea." Edward laughs. "Remember Keith Haring's work? He was famous for painting after painting of his little men outlines."

"Yes, and when you take over my writing project what would you say about this artist I'm writing about? He is quite the handful you know." I whistle softly.

"Oh, who is he?" he asks pretending innocence.

"Edward Masen."

"_The _Edward Masen?" He says with a dramatic flourish.

"The one and only," I pronounce.

"Oh that would be easy…._he is so fucking brilliant._ That is really all you need to say."

I snicker. "_Edward Masen is so fucking brilliant. The End."_

I shake my head laughing.

"Wow, I should have talked to you earlier. I could have been done with this weeks ago. Instead, I have to spend my Sunday with some bitch editor who wants to slice and dice up my writing."

"Do you want me to call James and tell him to back off?" He sounds hot offering to come to my defense.

"_No_!" I insist, despite his hotness. "Besides, now with this new deadline I am probably going to need her help."

"Okay, enough about you, Bella. Do you have any ideas for my painting?"

"How about a portrait of Rose in her crazy studio?"

"No, I'm not painting Rose…it would just make her big head swell bigger." He pauses, probably thinking. "I know… who was that artist that painted the naked girls and then had them roll around on his raw canvas?"

I have a wicked smile sensing what is coming. "Oh yeah, I can't remember his name either."

"Well, you could come over and we could do that."

"Watch it buster." I am playfully stern. "Besides I'm not allowed in your studio…remember?"

"Oh, I'd make an exception for that," he says with a mock serious tone.

"Hey, Edward, wasn't this supposed to be my painting? I think you should be the one naked and rolling around on my-what did you call it…_raw_canvas?"

"Well, we could do it together."

I almost choke. "Ahhhh, you are getting me all hot and bothered. I'm going to need a cold shower when you are done with me."

"Well, if you had a boyfriend you wouldn't need a cold shower."

"Am I hearing correctly? Is Edward Masen giving _me _relationship advice?" But before he responds I quickly change the subject. "By the way, I was at Rose's and I saw the shelves you helped her with yesterday. That was very sweet of you. She also told me that you are letting her and Lauren have their wedding at your house."

"Yeah, well I'm not always an asshole," he jokes.

"Funny, that's exactly what Rose said." I laugh.

"Besides I can't stand seeing that crazy crap all over her studio floor. I have no idea how she even gets anything done in there."

"Yeah, it's pretty crazy all right. Do you know she asked me to be her maid of honor for the wedding?"

"Is she going to make you wear one of those ugly synthetic bridesmaid dresses?" He knows Rose better than that, but he is being provocative.

"Hopefully hoop skirts will be involved." And we laugh together and let our conversation ramble all over the place.

While we continue to talk I close my laptop and eventually turn down my lights and stretch out on my bed. At one point I look over at my clock and realize that we have been talking almost two hours and my cell phone battery is giving warnings. I give a big yawn as I burrow further into my pillows.

"Hey, sleepyhead, it sounds like it's your bedtime."

"I'll have you know that I got in bed over an hour ago. But I am pretty tired…so I'll let you get back to your painting."

"Okay, Bella, sleep tight."

There is a long pause as if neither of us wants to hang up.

"Good night, Edward," I whisper, my eyes already half closed. "It was really fun talking to you tonight."

"Hmmmm" he hums. "Good night, angel."

And as my eyes fall shut a contented feeling descends over me, luring me to a peaceful dreamland that is void of art-whores and bitchy editors…just Edward, me and all the words we have just woven nestled between us.

. ~*~

The next morning I wake up in a really good mood. The weather is great- unusually warm for April, and I note that will be nice for our outing to the Huntington Gardens tomorrow. I have to admit that my long conversation last night with Edward left me uninspired about seeing James tonight, but while I take my morning shower I still plan what I am going to wear this evening.

I'm grateful now for Alice turning me on to the designer seconds shop because I have several nice things to choose from to wear. I finally decide on a navy Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress. I've had it for several years, but it still looks great and really complements my figure. I pull out my gold strappy Manolo Blahnik high-heeled sandals, and my asymmetric gold chain made of finely crafted gold loops of varying sizes linked together. Carlisle and Esme had given the necklace to me last Christmas, and thankfully Alice had borrowed the chain for the Disney event so it wasn't stolen during the robbery. I lay out everything, carefully planning on coming home early from work to get ready to go.

James' assistant emails me mid-morning to explain that James has a late meeting in Santa Monica so we should meet at the restaurant at six thirty. He has chosen Spago, Wolfgang Pucks flagship restaurant in Beverly Hills.

When I pull up to the restaurant, James has just turned his car over to the valet so he waits for me as I do the same. I can tell he is appraising me as I approach him, and the smile on his face tells me that he likes what he sees. I feel a flush work its way up from the top of my breasts, trailing along my neck and up to my cheeks.

"Oh, you look lovely, Bella," he murmurs, and he rests his hand on my shoulder and kisses me on each cheek. When we move inside the host immediately takes us to a table, and I notice there is a floor to ceiling glass wall where you can watch the executive chef and his team make magic happen in the kitchen.

We make small talk, and after reviewing the menu James orders a chilled bottle of Pinot Blanc to go with our fish entrees. He plans to order salmon while I choose scallops, and we decide to share an endives and apple salad to start. As I watch him order I have to admit that his confidence and command is very sexy. He notices that I am watching him, and he peers at me over his tortoise shell glasses.

"A penny for your thoughts, Ms. Swan." He smiles seductively.

"Do you eat here frequently? I get the sense that everyone here knows you."

"Yes, it is one of my favorites." He nods, acknowledging my question. And he reaches over and tucks some loose strands of hair behind my ear, and then he gently runs his finger along my ear before resting his hand back on the table.

"I was really looking forward to seeing you again," he shares, his eyes hooded and dark. "Perhaps after dinner I will tell you about my dream."

The Pinot Blanc flows freely, and I partake, nervous for what the rest of the evening holds. I think I am especially unsettled because I still am not sure what my boundaries are with James. I am working with him on an important project, and his ongoing moves of seduction leave me confused as to how I should handle myself with him.

It is strange to be attracted to someone yet have no interest in pursuing a relationship with them. Is that liberating? Should I just sleep with him? Or in the end will that be contrary to everything I have believed about love and sex? The way I feel about Edward in contrast to James only confuses me. Edward seems to want to be my bestie, my bff, despite his occasional flirtatious joking, and that only leaves me wanting him more.

It's as if James knows I have Masen on my mind because he brings him up next, mentioning that he is really pleased with how the opinions section of the book came out. I admit that it was challenging getting twenty different artists, critics, curators and collectors to contribute their paragraph on Edward and his work, but it was worth the effort. Each voice is different and intriguing and adds a lot to the weight of the book.

Over the course of the dinner I watch James progressively loosen up more with each glass of wine until he is more relaxed than I've ever seen him. I actually think he's drunk. He even orders a ginger crème brulee for dessert, which I can safely assume isn't part of his normal regimen.

As we wait for our after dinner espresso he snakes his arm over my shoulder and pulls me closer to him. "Are you ready, Bella? Do you want to hear about my dream?"

In my wine soaked haze I nod my head, smiling. I think I want to hear it.

"Do you remember my office, Bella?" His tongue runs across his lower lip, and he looks down at my breasts and then back up to my eyes. "Well, in my dream it is evening. I approach my office where you can see the lights of the city from the windows, and the room is dimly lit. When I step further in I notice you are sitting on the leather couch waiting for me. Your legs are slightly parted, and as I move towards the couch you continue to spread your legs very slowly until they are open for me. You have a short skirt on which shows off your tantalizing legs, and I can't wait to run my hands up and down and then in between your thighs with your creamy skin cooling the tips of my fingers. I notice from your silk shirt that you aren't wearing a bra and your nipples are hard. It is taking every bit of restraint not to fall to my knees and pull your shirt open so that I can taste you."

I shift in the booth feeling like my face is on fire. This story is already so graphic that I can only imagine what is coming next. I look back at him and he continues.

"You look up at me, tipping your head back, and I watch you take several long slow breaths as we watch each other silently. Can you feel the tension building?"

I nod silently.

"I take several more steps until I am standing before you, and I look down and watch your full breasts rise and fall with each breath. Your legs part even further in anticipation. Your gaze moves to below my waist to see my erection growing, straining against my pants."

At this point I have to give kudos to James. Even though I secretly wish that the other man, the one with messy bronze hair and searing green eyes was sitting next to me hypnotizing me with this story-James has still managed to arouse me. At this point I would be perfectly willing to head over to his office to reenact this scene.

"Shall I go on, Bella?"

I nod while pressing my thighs together, desperately craving any form of friction.

And to my great shock he reaches over and takes my hand, placing it on his lap. I can feel his cock swelling under my pressing fingers and the layers of fabric. I nervously look around but realize that the heavy tablecloth covers everything, and the way our booth is situated there would be no way for someone to see what we were doing unless they were perched under our table.

"Oh, Bella, I like your hand on me," he whispers as he moves close to my ear.

"So there we are in my office," he continues, "and you are so alluring that I sink down before you and gently push your skirt up past your hips. I am pleased to see that you are naked for me under your skirt, and I pull your thighs further apart so that I can lower my head between your legs and begin placing a trail of gentle kisses up your inner thighs.

"_Ahhhh_…your skin is so soft," he moans.

With this he slips his left hand under the tablecloth and deftly undoes his belt and unzips his fly. He parts the top of his slacks and guides my hand inside, wrapping it around his pulsing erection.

_Oh my God. We are in fucking Spago, and my hand is down his pants._

With my free hand I reach over for my wine glass and down the rest of my pinot in two gulps while he begins to move my hand rhythmically up and down his shaft. At this point, what can I do but try to pretend that this isn't the freakiest thing I have ever done? Waiters slide by and busboys remove extra plates while my hand is stroking his impressive erection.

"So Bella," he leans back further into the booth before continuing, "I slip my hands under your round sweet ass and pull it forward so that I can easily lower myself to your beautiful pussy. And finally I get to taste you, and you are so delicious, Bella…like nectar to a bee. I swirl my tongue in you and over you until you are moaning and begging for me to be inside of you."

Oh, Jesus, his cock is even harder now, and my thighs are quivering for the want of having all that hardness inside of me. My hand picks up speed so that I am almost pumping him. _Surely someone in this fucking restaurant knows what I am doing. People can't be so distracted by their foie gras and New York steak that they can't notice a man about to cum all over the Spago tablecloth?_

I look over and see the color rising across his cheeks, but otherwise he looks remarkably composed considering how his cock is bucking and pulsing in my grip. He finally leans over and presses his face into my hair and whispers hotly into my ear.

"And I lick you Bella until you are just about to cum, and then I pull away." His breath is ragged and hot against my neck. "I stand up again before you-ready to take you. And you want me…don't you Bella?" My eyes are squeezed shut, and I nod picturing it all in my mind.

"So I lift you up and bend you over the couch, pull out my cock and take you from behind, baby. I take you hard." I can almost imagine the incredible fullness of him inside of me.

I gasp, as my hand tightens around him. "Yes, Bella, I can feel you tightening around me so I reach around and rub you while I'm fucking you, and you shatter, yelling my name as you cum." He pants, his face buried in my hair. "And now I'm going to cum, baby," he growls. I feel his climax start as I pump him with purpose. He pulls his napkin over our hands as his release comes and he gasps "fuck, fuck, Bella," in my ear.

I am completely stunned but try ridiculously to maintain composure to make up for this man who is momentarily undone beside me. I slowly let go of him and slide my hand back to my lap and wipe the traces of cum from my fingers. He finally pulls his face away from my hair and reaches over for his water glass, downing half of it in several swallows. I then sense the rustling under the table as he cleans himself and pulls his slacks back together. I feel sorry for the busboy that has to handle that napkin but then I notice him folding it into a small square and he slips it into his jacket pocket. _I'm sure Wolfgang won't mind letting that one go,_ I smirk.

I wish the wine buzz wasn't fading because I am feeling really awkward right about now. But when I finally look over at him, he looks completely happy and relaxed and gives me a big sexy smile. He runs his fingers lightly over my hand that is resting on the table as he lifts his other hand to summon the waiter.

"Check please."

.

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**Last chapter's shout-out: Edward Wallbanger…oh how I long for an update!**

**Thanks for reading Work of Art!  
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	17. Chapter 17  My Shiny Penny

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art…enough said.**

**Thank you to my beta Twilightzoner and Farkle for working your magic.**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Seventeen / My Shiny Penny**

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On the way out to the valet stand we both agree to stop by our respective washrooms, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to compose myself before I have to get into my car and actually operate it.

_Okey dokey_, I think, shaking my head, amazed at what has transpired. I'm a little shaky-probably from so much sexual build-up without release. For such a sophisticated guy James is rather shocking, and I am unnerved that his story time in the restaurant has gotten me so worked up. There is a very good chance that the "rabbit" multi-speed vibrator stashed in my bedside drawer will be hopping in my bed tonight.

Although I know my way to the Getty, when the valets bring our cars forward James instructs me to follow him. By the time we pull up to the museum's lot there is already a good crowd gathering at the entrance. Not surprisingly, it is a sophisticated group with many men in suits and women in elegant attire…at least by L.A.'s standards. Before we approach the entrance James pulls me aside to say something.

"I want you to know, Bella, that I'm not a selfish man."

I look up at him, startled. What is he suggesting?

"The entire drive over here I was thinking about the best way to satisfy you as well tonight. You were so generous with me, and I want make you feel wonderful, too. He strokes my cheek as he thinks out loud. "Why don't we make the rounds here, stay about an hour and then head over to my office. Wouldn't it be delightful to act out my dream?"

I imagine him on his knees and between my legs as I laid back on the couch. I suppose that would more than even the score.

_Wait…what am I thinking? This is wrong in so many ways._

I am so overwhelmed and confused by my attraction for him and then I look up and his eyes are burning hot. His intensity is unnerving, especially since he seems to understand how to get to me. His hands slide along my hips, and I tip my head down and determine that I should have a talk with him about slowing things down. Just then a large group bustles past us and I decide to wait for a better moment when I can think clearly without distractions.

Tonight is the Spring Event fundraiser for the Getty Museum and the party is set up in the Sculpture Garden where the latest acquisition-a large Alexander Calder titled _Incubus Anomaly_-has been installed. The primary-colored shapes of the Calder defy their actual weight as they shift and rotate in the breeze.

Everywhere we turn James knows someone, and he keeps me by his side, introducing me before engaging in various conversations. Now that the Spago memories are fading I like watching him in this setting. He is so confident and comfortable in his skin. People obviously respect him, which in this business says a lot. For the most part the crowd is on the older side, but I suppose that makes sense being that it is an expensive fundraiser to attend.

There is an open bar but I opt for a glass of mineral water, figuring I should take a little break from the drinking. I'd like to be clear-headed when surrounded by all these art world intellects. James introduces me to the Sturridges, who are long-time major patrons of the museum, and they have an animated conversation about the recent _Renaissance Masters_ show.

After a few minutes my attention wanes, and I start watching other people's interactions. A large woman, with heavy ethnic jewelry and a silk African tunic appears to be arguing with a very thin man sporting a silver ponytail and goatee. A little closer to us a middle-aged couple is speaking French, and naturally they look impossibly chic. Her hair is swept up in a chignon which compliments her beautiful face. She is wearing a camel-colored pencil skirt and cashmere sweater topped by several strands of pearls. He is wearing a navy blazer over pressed jeans, his white button-down shirt open at the collar. They both have on very expensive-looking shoes.

In the tank-topped, flip-flopped world of Los Angeles, I have to wonder why I never see these people out and about at the mall or filling up their cars at the gas station.

Further to the right I watch a striking, petite Italian woman with very short salt-and-pepper hair talking flirtatiously with a tall, handsome African American man in a suit. While they are talking she strokes his arm, and he looks down at her with a spark in his eye and moves closer to her. I wonder what their story is.

Just then another man joins them, handing each a glass of wine. As he turns sideways I realize it is Edward, and my heart jumps. From what I can discern he seems serious as he speaks with them. He doesn't smile and uses his hands to gesture in a more careful manner than I am used to. At one point he pulls out of his pocket a paper and shows it to the woman, pointing at something specific, and she takes out a stylish pair of glasses to read it. She smiles at Edward but shakes her head and folds her glasses back into her bag.

As they continue to talk another couple joins them, shifting the position of their group. Edward is now facing my direction and a bit of panic sweeps over me as I realize that I may not want him to see me right now. But sure enough, as soon as the thought enters my head, his eyes lock with mine, and in that moment it feels like we are the only two people on this vast terrace of the sculpture garden.

A second later James, probably noticing that I've drifted, puts his arm around my waist and pulls me closer and I am temporarily distracted. When I look back up Edward is staring at James. Even from a distance I can see how tense his jaw is and the dark brooding in his eyes. Obviously angry, he looks back at me then back to James and then refocuses on his conversation with the group.

For some reason I have a sinking feeling, although there is no reason for Edward to have an issue with my being here with James. He might not like my being with him, but he hasn't given me a good reason not to be. Edward and I are nothing more than friends after all. Regardless, I have an overwhelming desire to clear my head so I lean into James and excuse myself.

I weave my way out of the crowd, away from where Edward and his group are standing. As I wind around to the edge of the gathering, I notice in the distance a stone bench facing the railing that looks down on the gardens below. I approach it, and as I lower myself to sit I sigh, grateful for the solitude. I take a deep breath. The air is finally cooling and feels refreshing as it fills my lungs.

Since it is evening the garden is artificially lit and the effect is eerie. It just seems unnatural to see a garden all lit up at night. While my eyes wander I reflect on how different my life has been since the New York trip. A month ago I didn't even know Edward or James, I wouldn't have been writing an important book earmarked to be published, or attending such an upscale prestigious party. This month has been exhilarating, yet I also feel completely out of control. James has dazzled me, and I'm not acting or thinking clearly. Edward has stolen my heart and left me with a deeply rooted longing for something not within my reach. So at a time when I should be enjoying how exciting my life has become…instead I am as splintered and fragmented as a cubist painting.

I recall, with a new sober clarity, the scene in the restaurant, and shock hits me once more. Who was that girl lustily performing a hand-job to a man she barely knows in one of L.A.'s most prestigious restaurants? What in the hell is wrong with me? I double over and sink my face in my hands, while resting my elbows on my knees, letting the disbelief wash over me.

I am so overcome with the feeling that I don't even look up when I hear footsteps behind me. A moment later someone settles next to me on the bench. I part my fingers and turn my head so that I can peek through and see who it is.

Edward.

He isn't looking at me but instead is studying the garden.

I shift my face back into my hands for a moment but then take a deep breath and bravely sit back up. "Hey," I say quietly.

"Hey, Bella," he responds, still watching the view.

We both sit silently for at least a minute.

"So did you come with James tonight?"

"Well, we drove separately…but yeah, I guess you could say that I came with him."

"I see," he nods.

But what does he see, I wonder? "Who did you come with?"

"No one. The Meyers invited me, but the only reason I wanted to come is that I knew Lisa Adams from MOMA was going to be here, and it was a good chance to talk to her again. She's the curator for the show you got me into."

I smile at him.

"James seems quite taken with you."

"You sound surprised," I reply wearily.

"No, I'm not surprised at his attraction to you...I'm just surprised that you're responding to it."

I remain quiet, intently looking forward at the garden.

"He's one of the guys in line, isn't he?" he asks, an edge to his voice.

I can't tell if he is frustrated or mad. I don't respond again but instead stand up and move towards the railing.

"I'm going to leave soon," he says, more to himself then to me. "This isn't really my crowd." He pauses, "Hey, let's go get something to eat."

"I've already had dinner."

"Where did James take you?"

"Spago."

"Of course he did. Well, you could keep me company. I'd really like that. Hey, have you ever been to the Apple Pan?"

I shake my head.

"Well, it's the anti-Spago-the best burgers in town. You have to stand behind people as they're eating and grab their stool as soon as they get up to leave."

"As fun as that sounds," I tease, smirking, "I can't just leave, Edward. James doesn't even know where I am right now."

"I'll take care of that. Come on." And he takes my hand and pulls me back towards the party-only letting go when I finally start following willingly. We pass a couple of women in party dresses heading towards the bar. As we get closer he whispers conspiratorially, "Tell him that you don't feel well or something that he can't argue with. Girls are good at that."

"You are trying to get me in trouble," I chide him.

"Of course I am," he grins. "I know…tell him you have bad cramps." He snickers, clearly pleased with himself. "That always freaks guys out. Besides, you know you're going to have more fun with me than hanging with these rich art snobs. Look, let me introduce you to Lisa-I will say hello to James and then you can drop the cramps bomb on him and make your escape. Then I'll sneak out after you."

I roll my eyes. "You've got this all figured out. What if I want to stay? Maybe I'm having a great time and don't want to leave."

"Yeah, that's why you were sitting over on that bench with your face in your hands."

I narrow my eyes at him as we move forward. As we continue to walk, weaving among the groups of people, I am struggling with trying to figure out what I really want to do. I am annoyed that Edward can persuade me so easily, but in my heart of hearts I have to admit that I'd much rather leave and have another L.A. adventure with him. With Edward, I am an anxious little moth drawn to his flame.

We are almost back to where I left James when the sight of Mrs. Meyer and her husband catches my eye. We stop even though Edward had spoken to them earlier. Stella smiles at Edward and then back at me.

"Bella, how lovely to see you here. Let me introduce you to my husband Stephan."

I reach out my hand, smiling. "Mr. Meyer, it is such a pleasure to meet you." He is an older gentleman with a sturdy build. He is bald but in a handsome way.

"Bella, please call me Stephan. I'm sure Edward told you the good news about being included in the MOMA show."

"Oh, he did, and I couldn't be happier. Thank you so much to both of you for supporting Edward's work."

"Yes," Edward agrees sliding his arm around my waist, "and thank you to my Bella for being my advocate."

"That she certainly is!" Stella laughs happily.

We say our goodbyes and finally join up with James.

"Bella, I was starting to worry about you," he says as he raises his eyebrows at me, then glances over to sum up Edward. He looks extremely aggravated.

I decide to alter the details about my conversation with Edward hoping to defuse a conflict.

"Sorry, James, I ran into Edward and we started talking about the book."

"Well, don't worry, Edward," James comments dryly, "it's coming along just fine. I'm really enjoying working with Bella on it."

"As am I," Edward quips. "As a matter of fact we are spending the day together tomorrow, but you know what, Bella? Let's just make it a fun day and not do any work at all."

I give him a dirty look. Why is he trying to provoke James? Am I just the door-prize for some stupid pissing match? I respond accordingly.

"I don't know, Edward…I'm really not feeling well right now so I may have to cancel tomorrow."

Edward gives me a stern look. I guess our play-acting isn't going the way he planned.

James moves very close to me. "You aren't well?"

"No, I'm sorry to say but I'm having really bad cramps," I explain quietly. "You know…it's a girl thing. I may have to leave in a minute." His color drains as he nods his head, accepting my ailment without question. It's rather ironic that he looks extremely squeamish over my supposed ailment. Edward called that right.

James moves forward suddenly and takes my elbow in his hand. "Okay, but before you do there is someone very important here I'd like you to meet. Excuse us, Edward." I see one of the couples that I had noticed earlier moving towards us and smiling at James. Edward turns and instead of walking away appears to be welcoming to the woman and her companion as well. I notice James tensing, and he looks really pissed.

"Lisa," James steps forward and kisses her on both cheeks. "To what do we owe this honor? You are a long way from home."

"James!" she is exuberant, and very pretty. I estimate by her warm olive complexion, large brown eyes and mannerisms that she is probably Italian. They embrace, and then James reaches out to shake her companion's hand. "Nigel, so good to see you."

James turns towards me. "Bella, please let me introduce you to my good friends, Lisa Adams, who is a curator at MOMA, and noted artist, Nigel Sierra." They both shake my hand warmly.

Lisa turns to Edward. "Edward, this must be the Bella you told me about earlier." He nods in agreement and looks delighted by her mysterious pronouncement. What exactly did he tell them about me? James is really steaming now. I would actually be enjoying this if I weren't the tennis ball being batted around.

Lisa explains that they had planned to come to L.A. for the weekend because her best friend from college was throwing herself a big birthday party, so when she was invited to this event, she moved their flights up a day. It has been a great chance to catch up with many old friends and take care of some business as well.

We continue to talk for several minutes until I finally decide to excuse myself and say my goodbyes to everyone. James looks concerned and steps aside with me asking if he can at least walk me to my car, but I insist he stay with Lisa and Nigel, and he reluctantly agrees. Edward watches me walk away, obviously pleased that his influence has succeeded.

I am almost to my car when Edward runs up behind me. "I'm just over here..." He points to his Porsche parked nearby, "So follow me out. Apple Pan is about ten minutes from here."

After we park behind The Apple Pan, Edward holds open the swinging screen door, and we step into a single room with a U-shaped counter, beadboard wainscoting topped with plaid wallpaper and grumpy old waiters with white wedge paper hats. Luckily there are several empty stools due to the late hour, and Edward and I sit right down and order. Our sodas are served with cups that consist of white paper cones perched in red plastic holders. This place is several steps back in time, and I love it.

I have to smile because Edward looks so happy as he eats his burger-the hickory sauce all over his chin as he laughs and tells me sordid stories about some of the patrons from the party. He shares some of his beloved fries with me, and I in turn let him eat most of my apple pie. I swing my legs under the stool feeling the most carefree I've felt in days. We are in our own bubble unaware of anyone else around us.

When we are done Edward pays and then walks me to my car. "Thanks for coming with me, Bella. Or maybe you should be thanking me since I saved you with a boring evening with that old man James."

I narrow my eyes at him. "I wouldn't say he's boring." _If he only knew,_ I think. "But regardless I had fun with you tonight."

"Oh admit it woman," he teases as he grabs the lapels of my jacket, "I am much more fun than he could ever be. You are just trying to make me wild with jealousy."

"Really?" I lift my hands to his chest and push him back as he pulls me forward laughing. "And is it working?"

"Mmmmm" he groans as he pulls me into a tight hug. And I am stunned as I realize that the feeling of his arms wrapped around me means more to me than whatever I missed on James' couch tonight.

"And it's just a matter of hours until you see me again." I say as we pull apart.

"Yes, our Huntington Gardens outing." He smiles as he tucks me into my car. "Until then, Bella."

I start out of the parking lot and when I glance back in my rear view mirror he is still standing and watching me with a smile on his face.

. .~*~.

The next morning I try to sleep in, but Alice is up early singing and bopping around the house as she prepares for our outing to Huntington Gardens. She has offered to pack a picnic for us. But when I go in to get some coffee I shudder to see that our kitchen looks like a warzone, with condiments, open packages of bread, cut up fruit and vegetables all over the counters. "Alice, that looks like enough food for a small army. Besides I thought you said that they don't let you picnic at Huntington Gardens."

"I know, Bella, but there is a park nearby; I figured we could do the picnic there when we are done seeing the Huntington." I watch her slip a bottle of wine and corkscrew into the basket along with plastic cups.

After helping her pull things together I take a long hot shower. I pay special attention to rubbing lemon body butter all over my skin before slipping on a flowing skirt, fitted top and sandals. I pull out the camera Edward gave me and put it in my purse.

Right before Jasper arrives, Edward calls to tell us that he will be a little late. They have shut down part of Pacific Coast Highway due to a rockslide, and the traffic is really backed up. Natural disasters and the resulting traffic delays are one of the trade-offs for living in the paradise of Malibu.

By the time he arrives we finish getting the food together, pile in the car and head towards Pasadena. It is already past noon, and Jasper announces that he is starving.

"Change in plans, kids," Alice announces. "We need to feed my man…picnic first!"

Edward carries the large blanket and Jasper the basket while we wander through the park Alice has selected until we find a secluded spot under a huge old oak tree. After Alice serves up the food, Edward clandestinely opens the wine and pours us all large glasses. We have to be careful because alcohol isn't allowed in public parks, but it's not like we're a bunch of rowdy teenagers getting drunk at midnight.

At first it is a little awkward with each of us perched on the blanket holding our paper plates, but as the wine relaxes us and the jokes start flowing it becomes like an idyllic day in the country, similar to what I've read about in my beloved Jane Austen novels.

At one point Alice leans back against the tree and Jasper rests his head in her lap. She gently runs her fingers through his hair, and they look like a picture postcard of love. I pull out my camera and start taking shots. Edward smiles, noticing that I remembered to bring the camera he had given me. He pulls out his new camera and starts taking pictures of me. Then I take pictures of him taking pictures of me until we end up falling down on the blanket, laughing.

We finally gather up our stuff and head over to Huntington. We are still a little giddy from the wine, so Alice skips through the Desert garden with Jasper stalking her while Edward and I take close up shots of the cacti and uniquely shaped succulents. We wind our way around the paths, past the lily ponds and Jungle pavilion, until we end up in the Japanese garden with it's perfectly groomed gravel beds and bonsai trees. While Edward and I sit for a minute to review some of the pictures we have taken on our camera's digital screens, Jasper and Alice wander off. When we finally look up I spot them in the distance, kissing under the canopy of wisteria heading towards the Rose garden.

Edward looks up and sees where my attention is focused, and he shakes his head. "Jasper's got it bad, and that ain't good."

I'm taken off guard. "What's not good about it? They seem crazy about each other," I huff.

"I've known Jasper for a long time," explains Edward, "and he has a history of falling hard and fast."

"How did you meet him?"

"We actually met in high school when we both took art classes on Saturdays at Art Center College of Design in Pasadena."

"Jasper wanted to be an artist?" I interrupt, surprised.

"Yes, he did. He was quite good too. But his parents always felt that the life of an artist wasn't good enough for their son. They wore him down until he finally gave up the idea. They funded his galleries to make him a businessman when he refused to go to law school. I think he gave up too easily, but maybe his passion for it wasn't great enough."

"That's too bad," I shake my head. "I don't think there is anything more honorable than being an artist. What do his parents do anyway? Alice said they were wealthy."

"Yeah, his dad is a partner in the oldest law firm in Pasadena. The family is old San Marino blue blood. His grandfather owned a lot of property there."

"Well, that explains why Alice was so nervous to meet them," I share.

"Yes, I'm sure they assume she is after his money. Jasper's last relationship ended over a year ago, and he's been lonely. I've had a feeling that the next girlfriend he meets he would marry." He shakes his head like it's a bad idea.

"What?" I ask. "Do you not approve of Alice? Do _you_ think she's after his money? You know she has a great job and a high salary. It's not like her family is poor or anything-I think they would be considered upper-middle class." I feel my temper heating up.

He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know, maybe. I have a hard time trusting anyone when it comes to relationships. It seems like there is often an agenda."

I stare at him, trying to contain my surprise and disappointment.

He continues, "I've tried to talk him into slowing down-not moving so fast with Alice-but he clearly isn't listening. I just hope that she's genuine."

I've heard enough.

"Wait just a minute! How can you question if she's genuine? Alice is the best person I know. She has stood by me through thick and thin without ever wavering. Furthermore, she's crazy about Jasper. If she knew how you felt…that you didn't believe in their relationship…she would be devastated."

He steps back, clearly shocked by my passionate defense of Alice.

"Well, sorry I offended you. I'm just telling you how I feel."

I press on. "Please tell me you aren't going to pull a Darcy and try to convince Jasper not to be with her. It would kill her." I feel like hitting him.

"Pull a Darcy?"

"Yes, you know, Jane Austen… _Pride and Prejudice_? Darcy doesn't trust Jane's affections for his best friend Bingley, and he breaks them up. It isn't until the end of the story that he realizes he's made a huge mistake, and he encourages them to re-unite and they get married."

He looks at me like I've lost my mind. "You've been reading too many of those girly stories. They're messing with your head." He laughs.

"I'm serious, Edward…don't mess with them. You may not believe in love, but I do. And I think they have a chance to build something wonderful together. Don't ruin it for them."

He tips his head and looks at me. It's almost like I'm a stranger, and he has just really seen me for the first time. "Okay, I'll leave them alone…I promise." And then after another moment he breaks out in a wide grin. "I never would have guessed that my tough girl Bella is a hopeless romantic."

I shove him playfully and make a face. "Yes I am, you big cynic. So you are going to really have to pour on the hearts and flowers if you ever expect to woo me."

"So. fair Bella, how does one woo in this day and age?"

"You know, stand under my balcony and serenade me, write me love poems…crap like that."

"I'll remember that." He laughs as we pile in the car.

We haven't been on the freeway long when, due to an accident up ahead, the traffic comes to a complete stop. As we inch ahead my laziness overcomes me, and I start falling asleep sitting up. But every time I drift off my head lolls forward and my neck snaps-waking me back up. After a few rounds of this Edward sighs and slides his arm over my shoulder and pulls me against him. _Heaven._ All I remember from that point on is complete contentment. As the minutes pass he instinctively pulls me in even closer, and I fall into a deep slumber.

"Jasper, look at them. They are so sweet."

I hear Alice's voice somewhere in the edges of my mind. _What is she talking about?_

"Should we leave them here or wake them up?"

"Leave them here? I don't think so-go ahead, wake them up."

I feel a hand on my knee pulling me towards the waking world.

"Bella," she whispers, shaking my knee a little.

I open my eyes slowly and blink, realizing that I am burrowed into Edward. Alice smiles at me. I try to gently pull away from him but then realize that he is asleep, too, his head tipped back against the head rest. Next it hits me that not only is his left arm wrapped tightly around me but he is holding my free hand against his chest, right over his heart.

For a moment I want to close my eyes and settle back into him, but this seems unlikely since Alice and now Jasper are watching me.

"Edward," I say softly as I slowly wiggle my hand out of his grasp. "Edward."

He starts to stir and lifts his head off the seat just as I am pulling away from him. He looks disoriented at first and blinks as he takes in all of our faces.

"We're home," I murmur and then catch my mistake. "I mean, we're at my place."

He pulls his hands up to his face and presses his palms into his cheeks. "Okay," he responds, his voice still sleepy and full of gravel. We slowly pull ourselves together and step out of the car.

As we turn to face each other I can tell he is embarrassed, and I try to set him at ease. "Do you want some coffee or something?" I gesture upstairs.

"No, I've really got to go. But thanks."

He looks at me for a moment before he turns to go, and there is a thought shadowed in his eyes, as if he wants to tell me something but can't or won't. The impression of this overwhelms me. I'd like to grab him and shake it out of him, like a shiny penny cascading out of an overturned piggy bank. But in my sleepy state my courage fails me, and I watch him move away from me once again.

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**This chapter and the last had shout outs for ElusiveTwilight's two fabulous works, The Rain Season and Incubus Anomaly…both great stories I highly recommend.**

**I love each and every one of you that left reviews. Keep it coming art lovers...**


	18. Chapter 18  Ancient Pasts

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

**Thank you to my beta Twilightzoner.**

**I want to give a special shout-out to my regular reviewers…I smile when I recognize your names in my email prompts. You guys keep my going when I get overwhelmed and feel like giving up…thank you.**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Eighteen / Ancient Pasts, Uncertain Futures **

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In my opinion, Sunday morning at 9:45 is a ridiculous time to be heading up Wilshire to work. Victoria lives in a high-rise condo in Westwood, and when I pull in the driveway a valet leaps forward to take my car. I steel myself for what's to come as I glide up the elevator to the fifteenth floor. The front desk has already announced me, so Victoria pulls open her door as soon as I've rung the doorbell.

She appears to still be in her Pilates outfit, and she is lean and fit with flaming long red hair and an attractive face. She looks to be in her mid-thirties. I step forward and offer my hand. "Hi, Victoria, I'm Bella."

She shakes it firmly and leads me inside to the living room. The space isn't large, but the floor to ceiling windows on the front side give an expansive feeling.

"Would you like some tea?" she asks politely. She has indicated that I can set my things down on the table in the corner where we will be working.

"That would be great. I'll have whatever blend you are having."

As she pulls out the teas, I move to the window to take a closer look at the view. The building is set on an angle, so from the right side of her window you can see a distance down Wilshire Boulevard. The left side, however, faces the building next door, and it's a bit unnerving how close their windows are to hers. The apartment directly across the way has drawn curtains, but the one above doesn't and appears to be all lit up from inside. As I squint to try to identify the large painting on the nearest wall a man suddenly comes into view, and he is completely naked. He steps right up to the glass and boldly stands…completely disregarding that he doesn't have a stitch of clothing on. I must admit he has a very nice body and appears to be well endowed. The way he is posing in front of the window makes me think he is proud of that fact.

"Wow," I comment. "That's some view you have here Victoria."

"Ugh," she huffs, exasperated. "Is he putting on a show again?"

"Yes-do you know him?"

"No, and I don't care to meet him either. My neighbor calls him _the naked guy upstairs_, and we have complained several times, but nothing seems to stop him." She walks over to the window, pulls on a long cord, and a blind comes crashing down to the floor-effectively pulling the curtain on the show. _No more naked guy_, I lament. At least it was entertaining while it lasted.

She returns to the kitchen to bring out two steaming mugs of tea. "Yerba Mate," she states as she puts them down in front of us. I lift my mug up to smell it, and it has the aroma of burnt hay. Unfortunately it tastes even worse.

Victoria then pulls up her chair and gets right to the point. She explains that she has already spent a number of hours on what I have submitted, and she took it upon herself to just do the edits and re-writes where necessary. This was the only way considering the amount to be done-within such a short period of time. This is exactly what I was afraid would happen, so I work to push down the swell of emotion inside of me. I'm wondering why we are even having the formality of a meeting if she has already changed everything? Perhaps she wants to put on a front for James?

I decide to start our discussion with something that doesn't have my handprints all over it-the _Twenty Voices on Masen_ chapter-where I had compiled other people's writing about Edward's work.

"Yes, this wasn't awful," she offers. "Some of the things people wrote were actually thought provoking, but it was clumsy the way you put it together. She had each section in a separate folder so she found that chapter and pulled it open. What I did was move Lisa Adam's quote first, then Edward Ruscha, and so on. Here you can see what I have done."

I flip through her list silently.

"Okay," I finally say. "Can I take this home? I'd like to spend more time studying what you've done."

"Of course." She nods abruptly. "I've made a complete set of copies for you to take." And she pushes a neat pile of folders towards me.

I pull the top folder off the pile. It's titled _The Early Years._ I open it slowly and start to read, then feeling alarmed, I skim through several other pages. I barely recognize the writing. "You have left out so much," I say almost as a question.

"Too sentimental," she snaps.

"I see." I close the folder and place it back on the pile. "Well, I think what makes the most sense now is for me to take this home and read through it thoroughly. Then we can meet if necessary for a follow-up conversation."

"If necessary," she repeats, sounding like she definitely doesn't think it is necessary to talk to me again.

"Can I get one of your cards?" I ask.

As she retrieves a business card from her Filofax agenda book she pauses and then looks at me. "How much time did you spend with Masen researching this?"

"I'm not sure-we have had a number of meetings," I answer wondering where she is going with this.

"Was he agreeable?" she asks.

"I would say so." I nod. "He is very excited about this book."

"Well, he should be," she states. And I can't help but feel that that there is a hint of dark undertone to her words. But the last thing I want to do is to explore this idea with the charming Victoria. At this point I am counting the seconds until I can escape out her front door.

I stand, pulling the folders into my arms. "Okay, well I will be going. Thank you for your time, Victoria."

She walks me to the door. "Oh, and thank you for the tea," I say with a friendly voice. She shuts the door abruptly, so she misses the smirk that crosses my face and stays there the entire way to the elevator.

I am numb the entire drive back to my apartment, and I pull into the drive-through Starbucks to get a Venti-vanilla latte and get that foul tea taste out of my mouth. Luckily Alice has spent the night at Jasper's, so our place is quiet. I curl up on the couch and pull open the top folder intent on working until I make it through the pile.

Once the shock of her dramatic edits has worn off, I get more of a grip on my emotions. Most sections I have to read three times in a row before I can fully grasp the changes. In some cases I can see how she has sharpened and focused the ideas I am trying to convey. In other places it just felt like she took a hatchet to my carefully constructed words. I flag the sections that upset me the most… figuring at the very least I can discuss them with James.

But as I read on another theme becomes apparent. The overall tone towards Edward himself is very sharp-often bordering on unflattering. He and I had already discussed there being mention of his notoriety in the social world, but everything now has a much harsher tone. And the digs aren't just about his public persona, but there are hints of him being derivative and borrowing some of his more important ideas with his work. When I finally close the last folder I realize that if I was Mr. Joe Public and had just read these words, I would conclude that Masen was a real asshole with questionable talent. I start to wonder if Victoria has an agenda, and I even consider that James may be on her side. But is this really what the publisher Taschen wants?

A very unsettling feeling is creeping up my spine. And my mind reels as to what my next move should be. I decide to put on some music and make lunch before I do anything. As Coldplay fills the apartment's silence, I make a quesadilla and steam some veggies. It feels good to avoid thinking about this mess, so I find a number of things to occupy myself until it realize it can wait no longer. Then I do the first thing that comes to mind…I pick up the phone and call Rose.

Luckily I catch her at home.

"Hey, babe, what's up?" She sounds happy and relaxed.

"I had a meeting with that Victoria this morning, and it didn't go well. Now I don't know what to do." I realize that I sound panicked.

"Did you ever get her last name, babe?" she asks calmly, evidently remembering our conversation about her earlier that week.

"No, oh but wait I got her card." I remember that I stuck it in my purse. "Wait a sec." And when I pick up the phone again I read off, "Victoria Coven."

"FUCK!" Rose gasps. "I'll be right over."

_This is not good._ I pace our living room over and over until Rose bangs on the front door.

"Let me see that bitch's card," she growls. I hand it to her, and it bows as her hand tightens over it. "Fuck, I had a feeling," she says, her face tight with anxiety.

"What is it?" The curiosity is killing me.

"Several years ago Edward went out with this wack job a few times. As I recall she was into some really kinky stuff, and Edward lost interest quickly and cut it off." Rose shakes her head remembering. "Well, she went ballistic…it was like they were engaged and he left her at the altar. She stalked him for months. He even had to get a restraining order. A helluva lot of good that did though; she still managed to scare off a number of his art-whores. That bitch had an unholy obsession. Finally she got in trouble at work, and they relocated her to the home office where they could watch her more closely."

_Oh, this is sounding just delightful._

"Well that explains the way she asked me about him. It was creepy." I chew on my fingernail. "But the worst part is that she reworked all my writing so he sounds like a complete asshole-not just a bit of an asshole like he actually is."

She smiles at my little attempt at humor before her face falls again. "Can you show me some of this?'

So we settle into the couch and I show her the sections I have marked to show James tomorrow. She hisses as she reads. "This will kill Edward," she moans. You can't let this be published."

"What should I do Rose?" I ask searching her face for answers. At this moment I don't think I've ever been so grateful for her friendship and guidance.

"You have to talk to James first thing tomorrow. Tell Carlisle you have a doctor's appointment or something. I wouldn't wait until lunch."

"Ugh." Memories of Friday evening come back to me. "Edward and James had a tug-of-war Friday night at the Getty event, and unfortunately, I was the rope. James wasn't too pleased with Edward by the end of the evening."

"Great, fucking great," she moans. "What is wrong with Edward anyway? He always makes thing difficult for himself."

"You can say that again," I agree, remembering my intervention with the Meyers over the MOMA comments.

She looks at her watch and jumps up. "I was supposed to meet Sam ten minutes ago. Call me as soon as you are done with James and let me know what happened. Meanwhile, I will think about what to do with Edward."

I give her a big hug. "Thank you so much, Rose. I am so grateful for your help with this nightmare."

"Sure thing, sweetie." She pats my shoulder. "Tomorrow…" She nods as she hurries down the stairs.

Later in the afternoon Jacob calls to see if I want to join him to see the latest Clint Eastwood film, and I agree, grateful for the distraction. We stop at Canters deli afterwards for matzo ball soup. I am wound up and despite the two beers I have before he brings me back home, I have a fitful sleep that night.

Luckily James agrees to meet me at nine-thirty, and I dress in my gray slacks and jacket with a black sweater attempting to look as professional as possible. He greets me warmly, and we move to the table by the window so that we can sit side by side as we go over all my notes regarding the changes.

Before we begin James takes a moment to address the editing process with me. Perhaps he is hoping to head me off at the pass. "Surely you understood when you took this on, Bella, that your work would be stringently edited." He states firmly, not as a question.

"Yes, I understood that James," I concede trying not to roll my eyes. "But this is more than editing. Victoria has changed the tone of everything I've written. When you read it you will see what I'm talking about."

"Bella, you must be exaggerating." He has an admonishing tone. "I hope you realize that Victoria has far more experience editing then you do writing. I have always trusted her judgment implicitly."

"Really?" I am seething now. "Well, do you know she has a personal vendetta against Edward?" I challenge him.

"What are you talking about?" His face flushes as his anger rises.

"Yes, James…they dated at one time, and when it ended she didn't take it well. He had to get a restraining order against her."

James looks like he is about to lose his breakfast. We both freeze suddenly hearing a loud commotion on the other side of the wall. At that very moment, his office door bursts open with Jane trying to physically hold Edward back. It is no surprise that Edward overpowers her, and he storms into the office.

"James," he demands. "What's this about Victoria Coven rewriting my book?" He is on fire-his expression so fierce it's frightening.

James pulls off his glasses and presses his fingers to his temples as his eyes close tightly. "Edward, can you see that I am in the middle of a meeting. How dare you storm into my office."

"How dare I? When this meeting is about me….about something that affects my entire life!"

"Very dramatic, Edward," James scoffs.

"But it's true, James," I concur. Edward looks at me for the first time, and I see a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes.

James stands up and moves behind his desk. "As it is, Bella was just explaining to me how inappropriate it was for Victoria to be your editor. Obviously I wouldn't have assigned her to this project if I had known your sordid history with her. Once again, Edward, your miscalculations in your personal dealings never cease to amaze me."

_And this coming from Mr. hand-job at Spagos_, my snarky side snickers.

Edward's rage is barely controlled. I can see every muscle in his neck and arms tensed as if he is a panther ready to lunge for the kill.

"Now you clearly are not in any state to discuss this-furthermore you are interrupting my meeting with my writer. I will call security to have you removed if you don't leave this office immediately."

Edward stands still as a statue while James begins to dial. Finally, Edward speaks.

"Okay, I'll leave so you can finish with Bella," he growls. "But I want to talk to you today, Allistair, and hear what the resolution is…or I am going to demand that Taschen drop the project."

Before James has a chance to respond, Edward turns and storms back out, slamming the door behind him.

James and I are both shaken, and we try to quickly compose ourselves. After thinking for a moment, he decides that he wants to take the time to go over Victoria's changes and then he will call me to arrange a meeting. He calls Jane in and hands her the folder, instructing her to make copies for him immediately.

"It may be wise for you to talk to Carlisle and arrange a personal day tomorrow so if need be we can spend the day sorting this out. As you know, the deadline is this Friday."

I nod and get up to leave, but as I turn from the table he takes my hand. "Bella, I'm sorry for all this drama. I don't want you to worry; we will get it sorted out."

I offer him a small smile.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks. "I am so sorry that we didn't get to finish our lovely evening Saturday."

_Hmm._.I think. _I don't know if I would characterize it as lovely…sexy, crazy, hot, nasty…but definitely not lovely._

"How was the rest of the party?"

"Fine, but it would have been a lot more fun with you there."

And just as he moves closer to me, Jane pops back into the office to return my folder and the copies. I am grateful for the interruption, since I am in no mood to think about hand-jobs and what not.

I look down at my watch. "I've got to get back to the gallery. We'll talk later?"

"Yes, Bella." He kisses me lightly on the cheek, and I head out the door.

When I get to the parking garage I turn the corner near my car and stop in my tracks. Edward is leaning against my car waiting for me.

I pull out my keys and step forward. "Hey, Edward."

His expression is extremely dark.

"Bella, why didn't you call me?" He looks like he is in pain. "After everything we've been through…why didn't you just call me?"

"Rose wanted to be the one to talk to you," I try to explain, although it sounds rather lame as I listen to myself. I look at him intently. "You have to know, Edward that I would never have accepted what she did to your story without going to battle over it…even if it meant war."

His whole body sags with my words. "Come here." As I step towards him he pulls me into a tight hug and he doesn't let go. I feel him rest his chin on the top of my head.

"I know, Bella, I know." He sighs. "I was just so freaked out to realize that Victoria was messing with my life again. I thought she was such ancient history, and now she's back. She didn't do anything to you did she?" As he asks he pushes me forward to inspect me as if he expects to find evidence of my being physically attacked. When he seems satisfied that I am unmarked he pulls me back into his arms.

"I know you would go to battle for me," he states with conviction. "You're my angel, right?"

And as much as I cringe at his fixation on my being his angel, I nod and press closer to him trying to offer what comfort I can. "Yes, I promise I will always fight for you, Edward."

"You are too damn good for me, Bella. I don't deserve you, and it kills me that I keep dragging you through my garbage. I'm trying to get my life on track, but every time I feel like I've made a step forward, this kind of crap forces me two steps back. I keep wondering when you will reach your limit with me and decide that I'm just not worth the effort."

Something about the tone of his voice and feeling of despair seeping out of him takes my breath away. I want to shield him from the demons that seem to be nipping at his heels. But what can I do when I'm not ever sure who or what the demons are? So I hold onto him for another long moment, trying to warm his spirit despite being swallowed up by gray in this cold cement parking structure.

When I finally start to pull away he is hesitant to release me from the hug, but I explain that I am already late for work so he lets me go. I assure him that I will call him as soon as I know more, and he promises to do the same. My heart is heavy as I finally pull away from him and head towards the gallery.

Jane calls me in the afternoon to tell me that James would like to meet at nine a.m. the following morning, and I should plan to be there most of the day. Luckily I haven't asked for any days off in over six months, so Carlisle approves my request.

By the end of the afternoon I am completely drained, and I stop at the market and buy a pre-made salad and a bottle of wine only to get home and find Alice especially cheerful.

"You are in a good mood," I observe, trying not to sound snarky.

"Jasper just called me-he's taking me out tomorrow. He is such a sweetheart, Bella. He's always thinking of special things for us to do. Remember my last boyfriend, Felix? He thought a movie after Applebees was a special date."

I laugh remembering Felix. He may have been tall and handsome, but he definitely was a dud. "So where are you guys going?"

"Well, a college friend of Jasper's does the booking at the Hotel Café in Hollywood, and she has arranged for us to see a show there tomorrow night. He's taking me to dinner first at some cool new restaurant nearby."

I give her a hug. "He treats you really well, and it's so great to see you so happy, Alice." For a moment my mind drifts to Edward's idea that Alice isn't genuine about Jasper, and as I pull back I say, "You know what is so sweet about your relationship with Jasper? It's that I know you would still love him even if he didn't have money and lavish you with all that he does. I hope he knows that too."

She agrees, smiling. "I know we haven't dated that long, but what we have is the real deal. Sure, I love all the things we get to do, but _he_is what matters to me."

She thinks for a moment and then continues.

"As a matter of fact, over the last few months he has gone through a big problem with his business due to a lawsuit. It's complicated so I won't go into it, but it was stressing him out so much that by the time I met him it was starting to make him sick. He could have lost the galleries, and he refused on principal to ask his parents for help.

"As much as he tried to hide it from me, I still knew about it, and I couldn't stand what it was doing to him. So I sat him down last week and told him that the business wasn't worth it if it was going to tear him up like this. I told him that if he wanted to, he could let it go and I could take care of us until he figures out what he wants to do next. I make enough money and we would be okay. He could even live here with us."

I smile at her warmly. That's my Alice. I know she meant it too. "Wow, Alice, what did he say?"

"Not much." She giggles. "But that night was the most incredible lovemaking of my life." A pink flush moves across her face as she remembers.

"And as it turns out, in the eleventh hour his lawyers were able to avert the crisis."

"And you are still came out on top," I observe.

"Top and bottom and sideways…oh, like I said, Bella, that was quite a night!"

We both laugh like schoolgirls.

.

Something about talking to Alice helps me remember that things have a way of working out. And although her Pollyanna tendencies can exhaust me, the simple devotion between her and Jasper is refreshing to witness. Look at me after all…I have an up and down relationship with Edward that is giving me whiplash. And as much as I know I'm not his type, I also know my friendship has come to mean a lot to him. It hasn't gone unnoticed, either, that his partying and constant stream of art-whores seems to have slowed down dramatically. Sometimes I even wonder if the chemical reaction I can't seem to stop when I'm around him isn't completely one sided.

I shake my head trying to jolt that idea out of it…because it certainly doesn't serve me to hope that one day he will sweep me up in his arms. Too often I am Edward's volcano-seething and surging under the surface knowing that I could emotionally blow at any time from the magnetic pull he has on me. I shudder at the thought.

And to further complicate my life there is this game of James' I am playing along with. The entire situation with him is so unlike me. I don't feel a romantic pull for him in my heart, but his command and seduction of me is dangerously intriguing. Doesn't every young woman at one point have a handsome teacher or boss that she fantasizes about? And then if they show her special attention the allure can be hard to resist.

By the time I flop down on my bed, my mind shuts down from the mental marathon it has run today. Sleep hits me hard. Tonight the inky darkness of my mind is empty and quiet…my dream spinner apparently is feeling benevolent and grants me a night of reprieve.

. ..~*~..

The next morning James and I are two hours into our work and we've already made it through over half of the folders. I am impressed with his ability to cut to the quick of the issue and make snap decisive judgments. The exercise showcases his superior intelligence and I'm in awe, happy just to keep up with him.

I watch him as he makes notes on the border of one of the pages. "See, Bella, just taking out this phrase pulls it together in a much more cohesive way."

He looks at me over the tops of his glasses. "Did I lose you Ms. Swan?"

"Actually would you mind if I got some more coffee?"

"No, go ahead. I need to make a phone call anyway."

When I get back to the office he is speaking Italian on the phone. From what I can tell he is fluent. The conversation goes on for another minute before he ends the call.

"You speak Italian beautifully." I am impressed. "Have you lived in Italy?"

"Yes, Florence," he answers. "I attended a special graduate program there. And I often still take vacation time in Tuscany so it comes in handy to speak the language.

"Shall we?" as asks as he motions us back to our work.

As he reviews the next page he shakes his head. "Apparently Victoria is not a fan of Masen in any regard. You were right-this is definitely unflattering in a gratuitous way."

"I'm glad you agree," I admit, inwardly relieved. "Whatever one can say about his personal life, Edward's work is powerful and uniquely his. She made him sound just a few steps away from those guys that draw your portrait at theme parks."

James chuckles quietly. "Well, he definitely isn't that. Besides I think you handled your portrayal of his public persona well. Brevity was key. No reason to reveal too much, yes?" He turns to me smiling. "We have both seen Edward at his best and his very worst, but that doesn't mean the public needs to."

I nod my head in agreement.

As the day wears on James has a Japanese lunch brought in with sushi and sashimi, and we continue to work while we eat. I know that this is taking a huge amount of his valuable time, and I can't help but feel guilty. But he just seems focused on getting it done. I have my laptop with me so I have been able to implement some of the changes to the actual document as we do them. But I'm not used to editing so many hours at once, and unfortunately I'm gradually losing my focus.

Distracted, I look over at him. His shirtsleeves are pushed up revealing his powerful forearms, the sexy tortoise glasses pushed back on his head, and his jaw tight as he goes over a passage. I lose what was left of my concentration, and suddenly I'm noticing the shape of his lips, the sharp edge of his cheekbones and the weathered crinkles around his eyes as they narrow, considering what he's reading.

James looks up and notices that I'm watching him. My cheeks redden as I reach out for the last folder. He smiles with a knowing look in his eyes. "Am I that interesting to watch, Bella?"

"I would say so," I reply quietly. "You are very interesting."

"I'm glad to hear it. Because you are fascinating."

I shake my head and look back down at the page. There is nothing more seductive than a man who makes it clear that he wants you. Once again proving, as much as the feminist in me hates to admit it, his admiration is confidence boosting after my awkward tango with Edward.

Just then James closes the last folder with a flourish. "Okay, Bella, here is what I need you to do. Go through and input all the changes I've indicated into the document. Triple check everything and then email it to Jane. She will forward it per my instructions either to David Stone or Rob Sebastian to proof read. When that is completed Jane will forward it to you and I for another round of review."

He stops to consider something.

"I am going to be in San Francisco the next three days. As a matter of fact I am going to have to leave for the airport soon, but why don't you plan on us meeting again Thursday evening when you get off work. At that point hopefully it will all be tied up and we can celebrate. If not I'm afraid we will have to roll up our sleeves again."

I feel a brief moment of excitement to realize how close we are to completing this project that has been the source of so much anxiety and drama in my life. What ever will I do with my free time now? Will the ending of this project also mean the ending of my relationship with both James and Edward? Only time will tell.

I close down my laptop, organize my folders and slip them into my messenger bag. As I gather up my things I realize I'm having trouble getting a handle on my emotions.

James is at his desk putting things in his laptop bag. He rolls his shirtsleeves back down, and slips on his jacket. I approach the front of his desk.

"James, remember a while back how you told me that you normally don't get so hands-on involved with projects but you did in this case because of me? Well, that was before this drama which has required you to give up an entire day and put up with undo stress." I pause to clear my throat as my voice is wavering. "Well, I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything you have done for me. You have really been amazing and I won't ever forget it."

He looks at me, almost surprised as this show of emotion, and then he gives me a smile that is somewhere between seductive and sweet.

"Believe me, Bella, I would only do this for you. But you have to know…you are absolutely worth it."

Jane buzzes his phone to announce that his car is waiting so he slings his bag over his shoulder and walks over to me. He looks me in the eyes with a blinding intensity. "Until Thursday." He kisses me softly on both cheeks and strides out of the office.

Before leaving I pause for a moment and look out at his spectacular view of the city. I try on his words again to see if they fit.

_You are absolutely worth it._

The idea he has presented becomes a question, a challenge…a signpost marking my path of muddled intentions.

Can I believe it and have the results shape not just my experience with James, but my relationship with Edward too? I repeat it to myself.

_I'm absolutely worth it. _

I gaze one more time at the view and remind myself what my mom used to tell me-that the world is full of wonderful possibilities if our hearts and minds are open. With all the uncertainties my future holds…I wrap that thought around me for comfort as I head out the door.

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**Okay my patient art lovers…I promise fireworks next chapter…but who will be lighting up the sky?**

**I want to hear your thoughts, and we are only halfway to the birthday goal! Review baby!...**


	19. Chapter 19  Fireworks and Earthquakes

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

Thanks Twilightzoner...you really pushed me hard on these last two chapters and they are much better because you did.

I leave tomorrow for a two week trip with dubious internet possibilities. I have been told that a nearby town has an internet café, so I plan to still post regularly while I'm gone. I'll be motivated because I sure as hell don't want to leave you hanging after this chapter….

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.

**Work of Art / Chapter Nineteen / Fireworks and Earthquakes**

_I shut my eyes in order to see. -Paul Gauguin_

_.  
_

When I walk into the gallery in the morning, Carlisle pulls me aside and suggests that we walk down to Starbucks together. I am immediately suspicious, but I put on a good face. We talk casually as we set out. He tells me about the plans Esme and he are making to vacation in Greece. But while in line in Starbucks he brings up what is on his mind.

"So Jacob keeps asking everyone if you are involved with Edward."

"Why doesn't he ask me?" I huff. "Not that it is any of his business. What difference does it make anyway?"

"I thought Jacob had been so much better not focusing on you since he started dating Taylor." Carlisle looks concerned.

"Is he still dating her?" I ask. "He never talks about her."

"I thought so, but maybe not." Carlisle is well aware that Jacob has had a thing for me for years.

The irony does not fail me as we talk that Carlisle is interested in my complicated relationships with Jacob and Edward, with no idea that the only real action I have had is with James, who isn't even on his radar screen.

We get up to the front of the line and put in our order, and then he continues.

"Anyway, the issue I want to address is my concern for how things are going to go today."

"Well, barring floods, earthquakes, typhoons or some other natural disaster…I think it will be fine." I laugh, a little uncomfortably.

"Bella, I'm serious. It is important to me that things go smoothly today, and Jasper seems to think Edward is volatile."

"What do you mean volatile?"

"He motions for us to sit down. "Well, Jasper's concern is growing that Edward is a little, well, for lack of a better word…obsessed with you." Carlisle's face is somber.

"Obsessed…with me? Oh, I don't think so," I scoff. "He is just one super intense guy. Granted, we have had to spend a lot of time together over the last few weeks because of the book, but that will be coming to an end within a week or two. Things will level off after that."

As I'm giving Carlisle my speech, I am trying to hide that my heart is racing from what Jasper had said. _Obsessed with me?_ That idea could mean a lot of different things.

Carlisle raises his eyebrows at me, obviously not believing a word I just said.

"Did Jasper explain further what he meant by obsessed?" I ask.

"Well, Jasper told me that the first red flag was that Edward has been very distracted with his work, which is unheard of for him. He was supposed to have already finished five more paintings for the shipment to Barcelona, and he still hasn't finished them. They are now going to have to pay to expedite them."

"Why would he assume that's because of me? There could be a lot of reasons for that. Maybe he has artist's block?"

"Well, as I indicated, this has never been a problem for him in the past. But Jasper elaborated beyond that issue. Evidently every time Jasper talks with Edward lately, you come up constantly in the conversation."

_Really?_ I am pretty surprised to hear that. "It's probably about the book," but as I say it I am starting to wonder just a little bit.

Carlisle hesitates. I can tell there is something else he isn't sure he wants to tell me.

"What Carlisle?" I press. I really want to know what is on his mind.

"Well, I probably shouldn't tell you this, but the other day Jasper saw his sketchbook open, and he is almost sure there was a drawing of you in it."

Before I have had time to process that information, he jumps in.

"Bella, I know it is flattering to have someone admire you. And then for it to be someone as dynamic and as good looking as Edward, even more so. And I am certainly not surprised that Edward is intrigued with you. You are beautiful, smart, and so kind…any man would be lucky to have you."

I am embarrassed by this overstated flattery, and my eyes cast downward.

Esme and I can't help but be overprotective of you. At one point we were, for all intents and purposes, your guardians. No one understands the psyche of an artist better than me. Let's face it Bella, Edward always seems to me to be fighting some inner demon. He has more fame than he could have hoped to achieve, but he seems more unsettled than ever. He's searching for something or someone to fix that for him."

I inwardly shudder, realizing how closely Carlisle's words echo what Edward once told me.

"So then you fall into his life. And you are so giving and kind-unlike the women he often finds himself around."

"You make the whole thing sound predictable," I comment. "Like there is a formulaic reason he would be taken with me."

No, it's not that-I just want you to be careful. I don't want you to get sucked into his darkness.

"I have always had a theory as to why so many established artists impulsively get involved with young women and then shuffle through them like a deck of cards. Artists need constant visual and emotional stimulation. They seem to crave the pursuit with all it's passion and drama, thrive on the infatuation, and then when the passion cools, as it usually does in any relationship, they move on to their next muse or model. I have never seen Edward act in a way that would make me believe he is different than this stereotype."

I consider what he has said, and I rest my chin in my hand, leaning forward.

"Honestly, Carlisle, this is my point of view about what you have said. I have been around Edward now in every type of circumstance, including observing him with women that he was, for lack of a better word, entertaining. We have laughed and fought, helped each other out, and worked closely together. Don't you think, knowing Edward and how aggressively he goes after what he wants, that if he really wanted me, I would have known it in some way by now?

"He had many chances to make a play for me, and he never did. There is a reason for that…what else can it be than that he knows I'm not what he wants?"

I can sense Carlisle backing down, although he is not completely convinced. And as we head back to the gallery, he changes the subject, and we talk about business. As we step through the door Carlisle gives me one last directive, "Okay Bella, I'm counting on you….no fireworks today."

"I'll do my best." I smile and nod, secretly hoping that's an assurance I can follow through on.

.

Edward is scheduled to come at three p.m., so Jacob and I start setting up after lunch. Our intent is to get the run started, so if we have any technical glitches we can work them out before he gets there. We want to be full-on printing when he walks in the door. Luckily, we have both brought our iPods to work, so we will have a battle of the playlists and there will be plenty of good music to listen to.

As it gets closer to three, I realize that I am becoming nervous to see Edward after having the afternoon to mull over what Carlisle revealed to me. But I do my best to push it out of my head and focus on what needs to get done.

Jacob and I thankfully have a natural rhythm when we work, so even when I am distracted, things still move along as they should. He spent the last week doing the digital work, analyzing all the color paths in Edward's original painting and dissecting them to create files needed for each color. These files will be used to burn the screens, as we print one color at a time. This particular edition of Edward's has sixty-one colors, and we are doing one hundred and twenty prints-so we will spend a lot of time on the press. Edward will only be getting a taste of it this afternoon.

Just a few minutes after three, Edward walks into the studio and sets down his bag on the counter under the window. I can tell as he turns back towards us that he is trying to subdue his excitement. This is the first time a serigraph has been made of his work.

Trying to maintain a professional air, I smile at him from my position at the press. He looks at me and tips his head, and I wonder what he is thinking. I'm not looking so glamorous, with my hair pulled back and my old ink stained jeans and tank top. But he still smiles warmly at me.

Jacob walks over to introduce himself, projecting a definite Alpha vibe, and he reaches out and shakes Edward's hand. I almost laugh out loud because Edward is completely nonplussed by it. As they begin talking, Jacob offers to show Edward his computer system in the back studio that he used to do the color analysis. Edward follows him, and I decide to stay up front and continue the run we had been working on.

I am back in my rhythm when one of my favorite songs comes on the iPod dock, _Chasing Cars_ from Snow Patrol, and I start singing and swaying as I keep printing.

_ If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me, and just forget the world._

After sliding a new sheet under the frame, I pull the scarlet ink across the screen with the squeegee. Some strands of hair fall into my eyes. I pause and push it away, smearing a bit of ink on my forehead.

_ I don't quite know, how to say, how I feel. _

_ Those three words are said too much, they're not enough._

Humming, I carefully lift the screen and pull the thick textured paper. I hold it up to admire the perfect impression of ink on paper.

_ Forget what we're told, before we get too old, show me a garden that's bursting into life._

As I lay the paper on the wire rack, I stroke the corner and sing softly.

_ I need your grace, to remind me, to find my own._

I walk up to the press and slip in the paper, then close my eyes as I sway, rolling my hips gently to the music, and sing the next line a bit louder.

_ All that I am, all that I ever was, is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see._

I take the wooden stick coated with vermillion and drag it along the screen, watching the soft puddle of color spread. I slide the squeegee up to the top of the screen, then stretch up and pull it back, my arms gliding gracefully as I stroke down, the color moving towards me.

At that very moment, I feel a shift in the room, and I look up to see Jacob and Edward in the doorway watching me silently. And although the expression on each of their faces is completely different, there is an intimacy in what they have observed, and now what I see in their eyes takes my breath away.

.

Finally Jacob breaks the silence as he moves towards the press. "Hey nice singing, Bella!" Thanks for keeping the run moving."

"No problem," I practically whisper as a flush fires up my cheeks. I glance up at Edward, and he is still standing in the doorway watching me. I search his eyes…his expression, with Carlisle's words ringing in my ears. But he is unreadable to me.

Jacob decides to take over screen work for a while as I unload the finished prints from the press and then slide fresh sheets in. Edward has a lot of questions while we work. He wants to know what other artists we have printed. What the average number of colors we print is. How the edition size is determined. It is interesting to observe his natural curiosity at work.

Luckily, Jacob seems to be slowly warming up to Edward, and he even asks about progress on the book. Edward and I give each other wary looks.

Jacob notices. "What?" he asks.

"Well, first the deadline got pushed up by almost two months, and if that wasn't bad enough, one of Edward's ex-girlfriends tried to sabotage it."

"She wasn't a girlfriend," Edward clarifies, exasperated.

"Sabotage it, how?" Jacob's interest is piqued.

"Well, James…you remember me telling you about James? He's the publisher of _ArtForum,_ and they are publishing this book in a joint venture with Taschen Press."

Jacob nods. "Yeah, I've heard Carlisle talking about him. He's the one you keep meeting with."

Edward gives me a stern look.

"What?" I snap at Edward. "So anyway, Edward's ex-whatever is an editor that works for James, and she was assigned to help me finish this project up now that the deadline is impossible. And unbeknownst to me, because she and Edward didn't have a happily ever after, she had intentions of taking him down in literary flames."

Edward makes a face at me.

"Shit," hisses Jacob. "That really sucks, dude."

"In more ways than one," Edward agrees.

"She's attractive and smart, so I get why you went out with her, but simmering under all that is a whack job," I enthuse.

"Yeah, well, I found that out the hard way. Besides, that was a long time ago," he states, clearly getting fed up with being the focus of ridicule.

"So what did James do? Did he defend the whack job?" Jacob asks, apparently enjoying the fact that _art guy_ doesn't have the easiest time with women either.

"No, James isn't like that. When I explained to him the circumstances, he immediately pulled her off the project. As a matter of fact, instead of passing the primary rewrite off to another editor he is working with me directly on it."

"Really?" questions Jacob as he waves the squeegee at me—reminding me to keep feeding the paper while I'm talking. We have a lot to print tonight.

"What do you mean working directly with you? I thought he already was?" questions Edward.

"Well, I had been working with him directly but only from a broader stroke perspective. Yesterday we went over the text line by line."

"How long did that take?" Jacob asks, and then says more to himself, "Oh, that's why you took yesterday off."

"We started at nine a.m. and worked straight through until the late afternoon because he had to leave to catch a plane. And we will be starting up again tomorrow night."

"What do you fucking mean tomorrow night?" Edward hisses.

I give him a dirty look and refuse to acknowledge his question.

"What, man?" Jacob asks Edward. Evidently they are buddies now.

"God damned James wants to fuck Bella," Edward snaps.

The timing of Edward's outburst is unfortunate as Jacob is just in the motion of pulling the ink towards him on the screen, and when he hears about James' intentions a flash of rage takes over. He yanks the squeegee down hard, ripping the screen and ruining the print.

"Fuck," Jacob yells as he lifts the screen to examine it. He quickly determines it's ruined too…a lost cause. So he turns his attention back to me. "Is this true, Bella? Is he horn-dogging you? I'll kick his ass!"

I give Jacob a hard look and the silent treatment, then do the same to Edward. "No comment," I finally offer. This just riles them up more.

"Isn't that fucker old enough to be your dad? What the hell, Bella!" Jacob is apparently team Edward tonight.

"This is my last comment on this discussion, and then we are changing the subject," I insist. "James would never talk to me, or treat me, the way you two are right now-so put that in your pipe and smoke it."

The studio gets very quiet, so I go over to the iPod dock and pick out one of my playlists.

"Sorry, Bella," Jacob says, giving me puppy-dog eyes.

"Okay, Bella, I'm sorry," offers Edward. "This whole situation has just really stressed me out."

"I know it has, Edward." I smile at him sympathetically. "All is forgiven. Now let's talk about something happier, okay?"

"Well, I don't know about happier…I'm going to have to go burn a new screen to finish this color." Jacob groans. "Damn. I've put everything away. This is going to take me a while."

"Well, I can start with the second color on the dry prints if you set up the screen for me."

"Okay, that's good. Maybe Edward wouldn't mind helping."

"Sure," he agrees, smiling.

As Jacob goes to retrieve the screen for the second color, Edward steps closer to me. "So do you have dinner plans, Bella? You want to grab something when we are done?"

"Sure." I smile at him, glad things have lightened up significantly. He seems really happy that he's going to help me with the printing.

Jacob comes in and hooks up the screen before heading back to remake the damaged one. I open and prepare the ink. This time it is a vivid violet. Just then Edward hops off his stool, reacting to a song that has just come through the speakers.

"I love this song" he exclaims. He turns up the iPod at the dock station and immediately starts singing, mimicking Seal's voice.

"_Every day a shade of blue, _

_ you won't believe what I'm going through…_

_ Everyone is just the same, they touch me, but I can't say"_

The bastard can sing too, I marvel. It's great to see him so playful.

He slides over closer to the press and leans in towards me as I gently stir the violet paint.

"_Heavenly, that's what you are, you burn in me like a shining star_

_ How am I supposed to be the king, without you…Oooohooo…it's true"_

He's singing louder now, with a surprising soulful inflection. He looks so happy, and he holds the spare squeegee up sideways like a microphone as he sings to me.

"_There has been no light brighter than you_

_ I can't deny the things that I do,_

_ feels like the world's at stake 'cause_

_ I have been waiting….I have been waiting for you."_

When the song ends we both laugh.

"You are quite the singer, Mr. Cullen," I tease.

"Why, thank you, Ms. Swan. Now show me what you can do on this press. I promise I will stop distracting you." He flashes a brilliant smile.

I roll the first drying rack over, and show him how to align the prints that already have the vermillion printed under the second color screen.

"Are you going to be able to keep up with me?" I tease.

"I think I'm the one who should be asking that of you," he laughs.

"What was the name of this painting…you know, the original?" I ask.

"_Tropic of Virgo_."

"Mmmm, I like that." I smile.

We start up the new run and remain quiet while we get into our rhythm. We've finished about a dozen prints when I realize he has stopped moving. I look up and see him looking at me, his eyes hooded and dark, color burning across his face.

"What, Edward?" I ask tipping my head sideways. There is clearly something on his mind.

"You," he whispers just loud enough for me to hear.

I stop printing and set the squeegee down.

"You're working on my art, Bella; you are part of my art. I didn't know….I didn't realize how this would affect me."

I notice his breath has quickened. I want to reassure him that I understand…I feel the connection to him through his art as well.

"I know, Edward. I'm so glad I am working with you on this."

"But it's more then that." He takes a deep breath. "It's hard to find the words…" And then he surrenders to what he's wanted to say. "It's unbelievably erotic to me."

Now it's my turn to flush, and my heart is pounding.

He looks at me with a blinding intensity. "I don't have the strength to stay away from you anymore."

My mind tumbles, trying to consider what he means with those loaded words. I instinctively respond with an unrestrained heart.

"Then don't."

He smiles at me. Is this an agreement-the ticket for a ride on a speeding train?

"Will you show me how you do this, Bella?" He waves his hand towards the press. "I want experience it."

"Sure, come here…I will show you."

He walks over to my side of the press, and I can feel the energy surging off of him. As a result, every emotion is passing through me, and I worry that my knees are going to give out. I'm a little shaky when I try to hand him the squeegee.

"Okay, take this and stand here," I instruct as I step aside.

"No." He shakes his head. "I want to do it _with_ you."

_Oh my God… I'm going to combust. How can I do this-work this closely with this gorgeous man and not lose all control?_

"Okay," I say shakily. "We start with the ink." I take his right hand and place it over mine. Then I take the stick and stir it gently in the can. The violet swirls, and then I lift the wet stick and we pull it across the screen.

I'm trying to focus but his touch and the heat from his body is permeating my senses.

Next I pick up the squeegee, and we complete the motion, but it is awkward with his hand only on one side of the squeegee. He steps around and moves the print and reloads silently.

When he returns, he steps directly behind me, as if he knows he needs to use both hands to really get the effect. Since he is taller and larger than me, he can curl around me and reach everything easily. I don't have to prompt him. He slides his hands on top of mine.

Swirl, lift, stroke…I feel his hot breath against my neck.

We grip the squeegee, slide, pause, drag back with more force, lift. I close my eyes so I can focus only on his scent, and the feeling of his arms wrapped around me.

He pauses before he steps away to switch the paper.

When he returns, he steps even closer to me so that when we extend ourselves across the print, he completely presses against me. His arousal is more than evident. I gasp and all I can focus on is his magnificent hardness against me.

By the third pass I am trembling, and this time when he presses against me, I press my ass into him, imagining him inside of me.

"Bella," he moans.

As much as I want to turn around and face him, I don't want to stop. I don't want this moment to end.

"Again," he groans.

This time as I slide the squeegee up, he lets go and slides his hands up my arms and starts to trail them down my sides. All the while his lower body is still firmly pressed against me. I press my ass against him again, grinding slowly. His hands move down to my hips, and his fingers push into me, pulling me against him.

I am surprised that he has the focus to change the paper again, but this time he doesn't reach around to help me with the screen. Instead his hands go right back to my hips as our bodies press together again, and he run his hands down the sides of my thighs and back up. Now he slips his hands under my tank, up my sides, and across my ribs, just skimming the edge of my bra. My nipples are hard, aching for his touch, and my breaths are quick and short.

I drop my head. "Edward," I moan.

"I know, baby, I know." He whispers pressing his lips in my hair, just above my ears. He steps away again, replacing the paper quickly. He steps back.

"Again, Bella, for me." His lips brush the top of my ear.

I try to concentrate on the trail of violet left from my stroke. But this time as I push up, his hands part. One moves down my front until it slides between my legs, while the other snakes under my shirt and then moves up to my breast. I drop the squeegee and grab the edges of the table, just as his hand pulls my bra down and cups my breast and his lower hand presses firmly through my jeans against my sex.

_Oh my God._ His fingers are gently pulling on my nipple, and he begins to kiss the side of my neck leading up to my ear. I realize I am moaning. The room is spinning, and I'm trying to make sense of what is happening, because at the moment I am undone and not sure if this is a dream.

There is only one way to know. So I take a deep breath, and I pull away from him. I take a step back, straighten my shirt and slowly turn to face him.

I see dozens of emotions in his face: panic, command, want, vulnerability, excitement, curiosity, but most pronounced, passion. He hesitates and then reaches his hand out to me.

"Bella?" He waits for a sign from me.

"I'm scared," I whisper, my heart still wildly pounding. Admitting this leaves me raw and vulnerable. I pray he treads carefully.

He looks at me tenderly. "I'm scared too," he pronounces as he moves his hands up and down my arms. "Bella, you don't know how dark things are in my mind. What I am inside…what I can be like. I've wanted to protect you from all of that."

"You've been protecting me?" My mind is reeling at the very thought of it.

He nods and bites his lip, watching me intently.

Not trusting myself, I take several steps back until I am under the arch leading out of the studio and into the hallway. I put my hands up to my face and take a final step back until I am against the wall. The coolness of the wall is startling against my burning back. I'm so confused because I know I am under his spell, and I've lost all sense of what I should do. I'm in the shadow of the hallway…the darkness becoming the sheerest veil between us.

Edward watches me for several counts but then moves towards me. Despite the open space between us, my body and my heart are calling out to him. I realize at that moment that he does not have it in him to stop either. I close my eyes, but I sense when he is right before me. When I open my eyes, I see he has an arm positioned on either side of me, pressing into the wall. He has caged me. He reaches down and presses his forehead against mine.

"Bella," he whispers. "I can't fight this anymore." I look up to see the raw hunger in his emerald green eyes. "I want you," he moans, his voice deep yet dripping with honey and desire.

I did not know that time could move that slowly…that I could live my entire life in between the single frames that flash as his head tilts and his lips part. He moves lower and lower until there is just a sliver of light between us. But when our lips meet, sparking as they press together, opening to each other as our seeking tongues slide together, things speed up to where I have to hold on to him to keep from being pulled into the upper atmosphere.

Perhaps if he were too rough or too rigid I would have had it in me to slow down and think things through. But he is fucking perfect in every way. I swoon from the way his arms wrap around me as his mouth goes from gentle soft fullness, sucking and lightly biting as his fingertips slide down my neck…his touch silky smooth and reverent, to the building of the fire, flames licking my mouth, teeth scraping my chin, hand sliding into my jeans, cupping my ass and pulling it against all that I desire.

"Baby, I want you," he pants, "I've always wanted you." As he bends his knees and then thrusts his hips up and forward, his hardness presses right into me. Fire and wetness mingle dangerously between my legs.

We are a wall of passion, and I realize that all the longing and unfulfilled desire has built what burns between us over time. It is stronger and more overwhelming than either of us could have imagined.

He reaches up and in a single movement pulls the neckline down from my tank and my bra, leaving my breast naked before him. He reaches down and takes as much of it as he can in his mouth, flicking the nipple with his tongue. _Fuck._ He is hungry for it and sucks hard as his other hand yanks the remaining fabric, preparing my other breast to meet his moist lips. I reach down and stroke the front of his jeans where his enormous erection is straining. We both moan loudly.

From this moment on, I will never trust my instincts, because I clearly had completely misread this man's attraction to me. I had never felt so desirable, so beautiful, so completely wanted…and yes…so fuckable in a man's eyes.

He turns towards my other breast, and his tongue reaches out and flicks the nipple repeatedly as I pant, watching, waiting for more. I press my chest forward, coaxing the soft abundance of my breasts towards him. He responds by taking more in his mouth. One of my hands slips under the edge of his shirt and my fingers rake across his stomach and up his defined chest until I can reach his nipple.

His pleasure is palpable, and he lifts his shirt encouraging me on. I shower kisses across his chest, finally biting his nipple lightly while my grip on his cock tightens.

He pushes his fingers through my hair and pulls my face up to kiss me again, our naked chests now pressed together. But this isn't kissing, he is fucking my mouth with his tongue and we are both moaning, grinding together, grabbing and pulling. The passion overtakes me, and I become a wild animal. I bite his shoulder to keep from calling out as his teeth scrape my neck. My hands slip into the back of his jeans and my nails dig into his ass. I thrash hungrily underneath him, and this pushes him over the edge.

The animal needs to be tamed because what I really want is to make love to him all night on his big bed in Malibu with the ocean crashing just beyond, the velvet curtains waving in rhythm to our movements as we tangle together. I want him to paint my portrait across the sheets as he strokes in and out of me. Our passion will be color, light and texture combined.

But it is difficult to rein in the sheer lust when it has simmered for so long. Edward is too far gone.

"Bella," he pants, "I've got to have you, Bella. I'm going to take you here in this hallway." His hand reaches down and starts working on his belt buckle.

Despite my fever, my mind clears enough to see the flaw in the plan. I reach down and still his hand. "No," I pant, "Jacob." I have no sense how much time has passed, but it is very possible that he could be entering the studio with the new screen at any minute.

"Fuck Jacob, he can watch." His eyes are burning. "I don't care about anything but fucking you right now."

The music has been surging, moving towards a crescendo and suddenly there is a sour note. I freeze.

_Fucking you right now…_up against a wall…in a fucking hallway...in front of Jacob.

Fucking art-whore.

Reverence shifts on a dime to tawdriness. Making love morphs into a quick fuck. He senses we are slipping down the slope. The next pleas have an edge of desperation.

"What about Carlisle's office?"

"Glass walls." My voice is losing its tone and inflection.

"Isn't there a storeroom with a door, a bathroom?" he asks frantically.

As if a yellow-green fluorescent light has snapped on over my head, I push him off of me and step away.

"The bathroom?" I ask, trying to keep the hysteria out of my voice.

"What, what?" he barks.

But I don't back down-instead I pull away, the passion now falling away from me like a discarded cloak.

As a result, I see his anger blossom like one of those sped up science films showing a flower opening.

"Now you are going to be precious and self righteous with me? I don't get you, Bella! I can never tell what you really want. Is this a game to you? Your whole body was begging to be fucked a minute ago!"

He steps back and yanks his shirt down.

"You are wrong…I didn't want to get fucked…" But before I can add the words…_I wanted to make love,_ he combusts and howls over me.

"I didn't want this to happen, either!"

"What do you mean _you _didn't want this to happen? I question angrily.

His fury builds. "I. Did. Not. Want. This !" he barks staccato, grimacing. "I knew it would ruin everything, and I was fucking right. Fuck it all!" And he pivots and storms towards the gallery, leaving me and my naked breasts in the darkened hallway.

"You didn't want me?" I whisper horrified as I push my breasts back into my bra, and pull my shirt down. I repeat it to myself a second time with a mix of anger and confusion. "You didn't want me." And as I say it a third time, I realize how true it rings. It is the only idea that has made sense the whole evening.

He didn't want me.

And he would never want _me._ Not the way I wanted him to. The emotional tremors start in my hands and then move across my body.

.

During an earthquake, it had been recommended that you perch in a doorway or crawl under a table until the shaking stops. Later it was revised to say you should crouch next to the table, not under it, to create a little pocket to survive if the walls come down around you. But when the world is shaking, and one's mind is not sound, there is a natural instinct to run out the door…run to an open space so that when the glass explodes and your ceiling crumbles, you can sink to the earth with nothing but the sky and air holding you.

But there is danger, even in the open air.

And I discover this as I grab my bag and shoot out the back door of the studio. For in the open air of the parking lot, as I lean forward, gripping my knees, desperately trying to take air in my lungs, I realize that there are no safe pockets for me. And what I sense as I crawl into my car and tear out of the lot is the sinking realization that the damage from fireworks and earthquakes is often too catastrophic to comprehend.

.

* * *

Okay, I'll go hide in the back of the art gallery now. Just remember that sometimes you have to stumble to move forward.

Reviews make me look back inside the story to see it through your eyes and they keeping me pushing forward. So I want to hear from you, really I do…..

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol © BIG LIFE MUSIC LTD.

Waiting for You © Seal.


	20. Chapter 20  Ain't No Prince Charming

**Twilight character names belong to Stephanie Meyer. Work of Art belongs to me.**

Thank you Twilightzoner for sticking with me on this wild ride.

Last chapter's shout-outs: The Guardian and Love in My Box

I am sending this chapter from a restored farmhouse in the hills of Tuscany, Italy. What a way to spend my birthday! Anyway, I am sorry I am behind replying to reviews but I promise to catch up when I get home. Meanwhile I read and value every single one…so thank you for letting me know what you think about Work of Art.

* * *

**Work of Art / Chapter Twenty / Ain't No Prince Charming**

**.**

I turn onto Santa Monica Blvd. hell-bent on getting home when the traffic comes to a complete stand-still. This is not unusual for this time of day in this part of the city, but in my current state of mind it is tantamount to having needles stuck in my eyes. I slam the steering wheel with my fists and howl in agony. At that very moment my ringtone starts up. Even though I am sitting with nothing but time on my hands, Gandhi could be calling and I probably wouldn't pick up the call since I'm in such a state.

I glance down and see it is Jacob. _Fuck,_ he has probably discovered the scene of the crime and is wondering why I abandoned him.

The last thing I wanted to do was screw things up for him too. I resolve to call him after I get home and have calmed down.

I inch forward only about a foot as the light goes from red, to green to yellow to red again. I hear an ambulance and realize there must be an accident ahead, which is only making the nasty traffic worse. My voicemail prompts, and I let out a sigh and decide to listen while I'm waiting. At least I won't be talking to him.

"Bella, it's Jake." He sounds pissed. "I just brought the screen up and you guys aren't here. If you were going to go out, for whatever the fuck reason, couldn't you at least have left me a note or something? That's messed up, Bella." There's a pause. "You didn't even print much, and hey, why wouldn't you wash off the screen before you left? This one is probably trashed now too." He is really pissed. "Call me back right away and let me know what is going on." Click.

Well, the damage is done. Calling now or later isn't going to change that, I conclude. I'm glad at least to know that Edward was gone before Jacob's return to the studio.

Edward.

The thought of him makes my stomach sink. I am still so stunned by his blast of rage after I pushed him away that I feel completely raw, like my skin has been peeled away. Part of me wishes I could turn the clock back so that our encounter never happened, so that we were still friends that could go bowling or get burgers at the Apple Pan. But the other part of me is steaming angry for how he treated me. Now there is nothing but the ashy charred remains of a friendship that was starting to mean a lot to me.

To top it off, I'm not even sure what happened…how everything went so horribly wrong. I went from my highest high…the way I felt in his arms as he kissed me with an intensity I had only ever read about in romantic stories; to then the lowest low, where we are hatefully yelling at each other as if we had just crashed into each other's cars. A wave of sorrow edged with frustration washes over me, and I realize that tears are making their way down my cheeks and into my lap. I am mad at myself for missing the asshole so much already.

The tears continue as I sit in traffic. Green, yellow, red, green, yellow, red. I surmise that life is cruel. As I sit in my immobile car I look out the window and watch the beautiful boys saunter down the street, fresh from the gym, handsomely buff. They don't call it _boy's town_ here in West Hollywood for nothing.

I move forward about twenty feet. Green, yellow, red, green, yellow, red. I turn on the radio and flip through the dial, but everything agitates me so I shut it off again. After a few minutes of silence the phone goes off again. Again I wait for the voicemail prompt before picking up the phone. Jacob's voice is much angrier-bordering on rage-and it immediately freaks me out.

"Bella, pick up your god damned phone. I need to talk to you and find out what the hell is going on. Fuck." I can hear him breathing hard. "So I'm wrapping things up, and I walk into the gallery to leave some paperwork on Carlisle's desk, and your boy Edward is standing in the middle of the gallery. So I call out to him and nothing…I mean he doesn't even look at me. So I go right up to him, and he's standing like a fucking statue, and I shout at him, right at him, and he doesn't blink an eye. What the fuck?"

"So Bella I need to know, and I mean right now, what this asshole did to you so that you leave the studio like you did and he is in this freaky state. Because if he did anything to you, touched a single hair on your head, I am going to beat the crap out of him. I don't care who the mother fucker is. And if you don't call me back right away, I might just do it anyway because he is freaking me the hell out. Call me now Bella, NOW!"

The bile rises up my throat and I choke it back. The picture of Edward frozen in the gallery is haunting, especially because I can't be the one to help him this time. I panic because I don't know what to do. But I do know that I better call Jacob right back. I wipe my tears and clear my throat. As my fingers fumble across my phone's screen I try to figure out what I can say to Jacob to minimize what he has to know.

He picks up after only half a ring.

"Bella, are you okay?" he shouts into the phone, his voice a mix of anger and concern.

"I'm sorry, Jacob. I'm sorry about leaving like I did. That was so not cool, but Edward really pissed me off, and I was afraid that I would say something to ruin this project. I just needed to get out of there for a while."

"You just needed to get out of here for a while?" he repeats sarcastically. "What the fuck happened, Bella? That guy in the next room isn't a zombie because you had a little argument. What aren't you telling me, Bella?"

"He's a crazy-ass artist, Jacob. You know how unstable they are. We had an argument about the book and he got mad, then I got mad and left. That's it. Don't beat him up… as much as I know you would enjoy that… just get him out of there."

"And how do you propose I do that?" he snarls. "Hoist him onto a dolly and roll him out to his car?"

"Very nice, Jacob. No, just push him out the door. He won't just topple over. It will force him to move." Although I have to admit to myself that I'm not one hundred percent sure that he won't just topple over. I'm hedging my bets at this point.

"Arggg…okay, Bella, I'm going to try, but I'm calling you as soon as I do it, and you better pick up the god damned phone," he spews.

"I promise I will," I state reassuringly.

As we hang up, I am relieved to see the traffic starting to break up, and I actually make it down two streets in a row without hitting my breaks. I am just a few blocks from home when the phone goes off. I immediately answer.

"Bella, that dude is messed up…you should seriously stay away from him. I had to push him all the way out to his car, and I couldn't tell if he knew what he was doing or not. It was fucking creepy."

"What happened then?" I ask.

"I went inside and wrapped things up." Jacob replies. "Then when I went to leave, he was gone, and so was his car. He must have snapped out of it enough to drive."

"Well, that's a relief." I sigh. "Look, Jacob, I'm really sorry about all of this, and I'll make it up to you somehow."

"I'm going to make sure you do. You will be taking me for drinks, where ever I want to go…even if it's a sports bar or strip club."

"Okay, wherever you want to go," I repeat numbly.

. ..~*~..

I don't know when I have been so grateful to be home from work, and Alice greets me cheerily. She is holding three small hangers with tulle-laced confections.

"Look, Bella," she beckons me, "our latest princess designs." She begins to hold up the miniature dresses one at a time for my viewing pleasure.

I dump my bags down on the living room couch and groan. "Alice," I start, "does it ever bother you that you are shoving this princess propaganda down little girl's' throats teaching them that they don't have to work hard, and develop their intellects to grow up to be strong independent women? That instead they should focus on dressing up pretty and waiting for their prince to come along and take care of them? I think Disney is single-handedly trying to ruin an entire generation of young women."

I watched her eyes widen, while the corners of her mouth fall abruptly.

"Rough day, Bella, or is there another reason I get to be the focus of your bitchfest?"

She pivots around in her platform shoes and marches back to her bedroom.

_Fuck!_ I walk up to the table and pick up the pink tiara which consists of wires strung with pink crystal beads and then woven together into the shape of a crown. A medallion with Cinderella's happy face is glued front and center, and I run my fingers over her printed face. _What is she so god damned happy about?_

If there is anything I've learned tonight, it's that there ain't no Prince Charming…just crazy-ass artists who want to fuck you in hallways.

I sigh and walk slowly back to Alice's room. I lean up against the frame to her door, and she continues to flitter about, ignoring my presence.

"Alice, I'm so sorry," I start. "You are right, I had a totally crappy day, and I shouldn't take it out on you. I feel really bad about it."

"Why was today so crappy?" she asks, still not looking me in the eyes.

"Oh, Edward and I just had a huge blow-out fight, and our friendship is over. On top of that it happened while we were printing his edition. Now if he backs out of finishing it, Carlisle may be tempted to fire me."

She immediately softens and looks concerned. "What did you guys fight about? I thought you were getting along so well."

"We were.," I cringe, remembering. "I need a drink. Can we sit down and talk for a minute?" I ask pleading.

She nods and follows me into the kitchen where I pull out a leftover corked bottle of white wine from the fridge and pop it open. I pour us each generous glasses, and we sit down on the couch.

"The weird thing is that everything started out so well. All the prep with Jacob went smoothly for Edward's print run so we were ready when he showed up. And Edward was really excited when he arrived at the studio. I think this is his first real printing of his work. And even he and Jacob were getting along."

She nods silently, encouraging me on.

"So we were printing, and Jacob had to burn a new screen in the back which left Edward and I alone at the press."

I feel my face start to burn, and I close my eyes remembering.

"You know that Seal song, _Waiting for You_?" I ask.

"I love that song," she sighs.

"So do I, and it comes on the iPod and he starts singing it to me." I look at her exasperated, "and he's such a good singer, Alice."

She smiles.

"And something just shifted with him, with us. And when we got back to work everything was different."

"Different?" She tips her head, questioning.

"Suddenly the way he is looking at me…it's like I am the only woman on earth, and he has to have me. It felt so primal, so completely sexual. I will never, ever forget that look he gave me."

"This is so hot, Bella. This sounds wonderful. What went wrong?"

I swallow and pause, trying to slow my fluttering heart.

"He comes over next to me, Alice, because he wants me to show him how to print, and next thing I know he is standing behind me, pressed against me, and his hands are moving over me. At first just my waist and thighs, but then my breasts and between my legs."

"Ha! I knew it," she exclaims. "I knew he had it big for you. I could tell how much he wanted you whenever he was around."

Well, that is how it seemed at first. That he wanted _me..._ I even stepped away from him for a minute because I wanted to make sure it was the right thing that this was happening." I close my eyes again, the memory so vivid in my mind.

"But he knew what he wanted. He had no hesitation, and he took control again. And then he started kissing me, Alice, and oh my God, it was nothing I had ever felt before. He is not just a great kisser but an unbelievable kisser, and I was melting right there in his arms."

"She sighs loudly, and there is a touch of melancholy because she already knows the ending of the story isn't a happy one.

"And then it just escalates. It went from zero to sixty in seconds, and we are all over each other. You know, it's to the point where you've lost all reason. When you get to the point that all that matters is being with him, and suddenly….it's hard to explain, but suddenly it just got sleazy."

Alice frowns. "Sleazy? Did he do something nasty or something?"

"No" I shake my head. "It's not that. It was that all of a sudden I felt like I was just a fuck, any fuck, that it didn't matter that it was me. He was going to get off, and that was what mattered."

"Believe me, I have imagined what it would be like to be with Edward. And in my fantasy we are on his big bed in Malibu, or in front of the fireplace in his library, but not pressed up against a wall in the storeroom surrounded by cans of paints and cleaners."

"Oh," Alice's face falls. "I see what you mean."

"And he didn't care what mattered to me. I felt like I could have been anybody. As soon as I said something, he got really pissed off. He yelled at me…I yelled at him, and then he stormed away. Done, end of story."

"Oh my God, that's awful,." Alice whispers. "It's sounding as if he made you feel like one of his art-whores you are always talking about?"

"Precisely." My spirit sags as I say it, because I can feel the truth of it cut right through me.

"Well, then good riddance," Alice growls. "What an asshole."

"Asshole," I repeat, even though the word sounds wrong falling out of my mouth.

"I'm so disappointed." Alice shakes her head. "I usually have such good instincts with this stuff, and I thought he was crazy about you. I guess I was wrong."

I take a big sip of wine, pull my knees into my chest, and wrap my arms around them protectively. I wish I could feel that I'm better off without him-that he was just going to be trouble anyway. But part of me just can't believe that. Part of me had really grown to care about Edward.

And I am reminded of a universal truth. There is no better way to realize how much something means to you than to lose it.

. ..~*~..

I show up to work the next day with my tail between my legs, prepared to kowtow to Jacob to make up for the transgressions of the previous afternoon. It is my luck that he is in a generous mood, and other then securing my assurance that I will accompany him to his favorite sports bar Saturday evening, he is merciful and doesn't bring up the unfortunate turn of events. I am internally cheering that he has picked a sports bar for the payback, grateful that I won't be forced into being his date at the hip strip club he likes to frequent. To show my appreciation I get him a venti blended mocha with extra whipped cream on my afternoon coffee run.

We worked diligently printing, to not just make up for the time we had lost but to convince ourselves that this lucrative project hadn't flown the coop yet. So far there hadn't been any word from Edward or Jasper; so we soldier ahead.

I haven't told Carlisle yet about the disaster, not feeling like I can handle his disappointment on top of everything else.

As for Edward, I suspected I wouldn't hear from him, but what I didn't expect is that the idea of him, the physical manifestation of his impression, follows me like a phantom all day. I see a flash in the corner of my eye, and I look quickly thinking he is next to me, but all that is before me is the edge of the printing press where he leaned over the night before. When I peer down the hall into the gallery I also think I see him standing silently, waiting. But it is the ghost in my shrinking mind…perhaps my attempt at actualizing my loss.

At five-twenty I take my things into the bathroom to change for meeting James. His assistant called early in the day to ask if I could be there at six p.m., since James has an obligation that came up this evening and he will have to leave by seven-thirty. I'm relieved the meeting will be shorter than expected. The idea of having to work on Edward's book tonight is so horrific that I'm almost numb, but I realize that sensation could serve me well as it may help me coast through the work ahead. Hopefully, I can be professional enough that James won't pick up on the fact that there is an issue. I get in my car and turn my radio up, giving myself a continuous pep talk all the way over to his office.

"Bella!" His greeting couldn't be warmer, and the look of adoration in his eyes feels good, as much as I hate to admit it. It's such a nice contrast to the shunning and discarding I was subjected to less than twenty-four hours ago. We sit down at his table, and before we dig into the work, we catch up. When he is done telling me about his trip to San Francisco, he brushes his fingers along my cheek and squints as he examines my face. "You look tired, Bella. Are you working too hard?"

I smile at him. "Yes, and it's all your fault, you slave driver you."

"Well," he replies smiling back, "you will like my news then. I'm very happy with the last round of edits, and we have only minimal work to do tonight."

I clap my hands happily, and he laughs with me. "Well, let's get to it!" I enthuse.

The words are now so familiar to me that I doubt I have any perspective left on whether the work is decent or not, but James seems enthusiastic, so I have a reason to be optimistic. I immediately recognize that in some areas there are changes and additional writing.

"Did your editor, David, add this part in?" I ask. "It's really good."

He smiles. "Actually, I added that while I was waiting for the flight. But I accept the compliment," he teases.

We tear through chapter after chapter as there are such minor adjustments and so few changes that the work goes quickly. After we've scanned the last page he closes the folder with great flourish.

"Done!" he smiles. "Congratulations, Bella! Your first book is complete. I think it's time to celebrate."

I am so very pleased. To think that a matter of weeks ago I was at an art show going over shipping information, and now I've written a book for Taschen Publishing. It's hard to put my arms around just the idea of it.

"I've brought something special to celebrate," James announces as he opens the mini-fridge at his bar. He pulls out a bottle of Cristal champagne and then takes two crystal champagne stems out of the cupboard. He opens the bottle smoothly and hands me my glass, the champagne wildly fizzing.

"You know, Bella, I admire you. It took courage to take on such a big project, to deal with a very difficult artist and a demanding publisher, and still handle yourself with great poise and determination. And it took tenacity to follow it through to the end… even when the road got rough. In the end you wrote an exceptional work. You are really something, Bella Swan, and I expect see great things in your future."

I am speechless and flushed from the unabashed flattery. That is the most incredible thing anyone has ever said about me.

He holds up his glass, and I raise mine as well.

"To jumping in with both feet."

I laugh. "Both feet," I echo.

I walk over to his window and gaze across the Los Angeles skyline. Dusk is falling, and the city is twinkling a pale platinum glow. It's all just so much to take in.

"I am sad about one thing though," I finally admit.

"What is that, Bella?" James asks.

"Now that it's over, we won't be working together anymore. I mean I've really enjoyed our time together."

He picks up the bottle then joins me at the window and refills both our glasses. The champagne is so good, and the buzz even better.

"What makes you think we won't be working together or seeing each other anymore? I've gotten a taste of you Bella, and I'm not letting you go."

_Oh my._ I move my eyes slowly off the view to him, and the look he is giving me rests somewhere between adoration and seduction.

His phone buzzes, and he heads over to his desk.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Alistair, I'm leaving now but just a reminder that you will need to leave in twenty minutes to pick them up by eight p.m."

"Thank you, Jane. I'll see you in the morning."

He moves back towards me.

"So little time," he whispers. He lifts his hand to my face and trails the tips of his fingers down my cheek, then my neck and stops just above my breasts.

I decide that it is finally time to say something. "James, one thing has weighed very heavily on my mind."

"Yes?" His eyebrows lift with curiosity.

"I feel really uncomfortable about the fact that I allowed things to get unprofessional with you." I pause awkwardly. "Well…you know what I mean. "

I see a darkness cross his face as his head falls forward. "Why do you insist on blaming yourself, Bella, when I am the one who crossed the line with you? We both know who has initiated all of this."

"I have been a willing participant," I assure him.

"Well, and that means we us both consented to something that has become very important to me. From the moment I met you, I was wildly attracted to you and, yes, I was determined to have you, but I worried about the ramifications too. I tried to convince myself that you are not a regular employee here at _ArtForum, _and therefore, it wasn't so egregious. I wasn't even originally going to be working with you directly."

"But you have the ability to make or break my career. Doesn't that make this wrong?"

"In a perfect world, yes. But show me a company where something like this hasn't happened. People that work together often share passions, they share intellects, they have the luxury of getting to know each other over time. My mother was an operating room nurse and worked with my father who was a surgeon, and they fell in love. It happens every day. Is it really so wrong?"

The way he explains everything it doesn't seem as bad as I have imagined. Or are the champagne bubbles making my head fuzzy? Of course I am craving an excuse not to feel guilty or foolish.

After taking another sip, he sits his champagne flute down and faces me. He slowly runs his hand through my hair.

"Is it so wrong for me to touch you like this?" I look up at him. His eyes are searching mine for answers. He lightly brushes his lips across my forehead, before moving down to my lips. "Is it wrong for me to want to kiss you so much?"

I shake my head ever so slightly. His lips move over mine softly. I find myself slowly opening up to him. My heart is pounding to realize that everything is shifting. Somewhere deep in my heart I know I am stepping into this to fill the hole that Edward tore through me last night. I know that's wrong…a wrong that will become another thing I will regret in the morning. But none of the wrongs are compelling enough to seem to stop me when I've felt undesirable all day and his attention feels so damn good.

He slides his hand behind my neck and kisses me more deeply. I surprise myself by kissing back with a surge of passion. I can feel his smile of satisfaction as our lips move together.

When the kiss ends he trails his lips down my neck as his hand strokes my cheek before moving to my waist and back up. He looks down at me.

"Is it wrong for me to want to touch you? Is it, Bella?" His expression is more intense now as he pulls me closer. "You know how much I want you."

He feathers his fingers down my back making circles across the cool silk. His fingers dip down skimming my ass.

"Will you indulge me once again, Bella? You have already been so generous."

I can't resist him as much as I probably should.

"Indulge how?" I whisper.

"I want you to slowly unbutton your blouse for me. I want to touch you."

He walks over and locks the door. I take a long sip of champagne and watch him come back to me, standing even closer now. Just him saying those words has aroused me; I feel the warmth spread between my legs. He takes my champagne glass out of my hands and sets it down.

I am wearing a soft silk shirt of a brilliant teal, and I raise my hands to the top button and watch him very carefully as I start to undo the tiny pearl buttons. He drags his tongue across his lower lip and sighs, watching as each button is undone. When the last is open I drop my arms to my side, my heart beating wildly.

His eyes are blazing into mine as he reaches up and pulls the shirt apart, leaving me completely exposed.

"Beautiful, so beautiful. Your skin, your breasts."

I'm glad to be wearing my fancy bra. I can tell he appreciates it.

"Are you a breast man, James?" I tease him.

"How did you guess?" he replies, giving me a wicked smile. "Unhook your bra, Bella."

After I have unhooked it, he reaches up and slides the straps as far off my shoulders as my blouse will allow and pulls it down so that my naked breasts spring forward.

"My God," is all he says. There is reverence in his voice, and it makes me feel beautiful.

"Touch your breasts for me, Bella." His breath is accelerated, his coloring flushed.

I reach up and cup my breasts with my hands, and then gently squeeze them, lightly pulling on my nipples.

He lowers himself towards me slowly, but when his mouth finally skims my breast, and his hands reach up and replace mine, my arrousal flares. He softly kisses the top and sides of my breasts before taking my nipple in his mouth. As he rolls his tongue over me I moan and softly run my fingers through his hair. Everything is gentle, slow and sensuous.

I'm feeling worshipped. It's a heady feeling, and I like it. I need it.

"How much time do you have?" I pant, caressing his head.

He looks up at me, still sucking, his eyes hooded with lust.

"Before you have to leave?"

He releases me. I feel the shock of cool air against my burning wet skin. "Why, baby?" he whispers as he stands to face me.

"I don't want to make you late," I say softly, my eyes timidly aimed downwards. "And I'm wondering what you have in mind."

He gives me a devilish smile. "Don't worry, Bella, I'm not going to bend you over the couch and take you tonight. My fantasies have evolved. I've decided that I want our first time to be incredibly romantic. I want to make love to you, not rush something in my office. I want to take you somewhere beautiful and take my time making love with you."

For a moment I'm transported somewhere else. Why couldn't Edward have said that-wanted that? Here is James offering me the very thing I wanted from Edward.

"You sure know how to get a girl worked up." I smile at him.

"Well, just think how intense it will be when we finally make love."

I nod nervously.

He lifts his hands back up to cup my breasts, and he moans as he lightly pinches my nipples. "Oh baby, you are so damn sexy," he moans. "I am so hard right now."

He lowers his head to the other breast, paying it an equal amount of attention. I press my thighs together trying to overcome the ache, low and wanting. He senses my reaction and sucks on my nipples harder, then his right hand slides under my skirt, and his fingers slowly stroke my thighs, moving their way upwards. Finally they slide under my panties into my wetness, and he starts to stroke me. We edge back so I am anchored against his desk.

"You are so wet," he whispers in a raspy voice.

I moan and my head falls back. He slides one finger and then two fingers inside of me while his thumb caresses my most sensitive spot. While he pushes me higher, I lower my hand and rub it over his erection as it strains tightly against his slacks. His cock bucks against my touch. He groans but makes no moves to open his pants, evidently intent on taking care of me first. The combination of his fingers swirling over and inside me and his ravenous sucking of my breasts is more than I can take. After only a couple of minutes, every muscle in my body tenses and then deliciously unfurls in rolling waves. I cry out, and as I begin my freefall climaxing, my fingers tighten in his hair with one hand, and around his cock with the other. When I finally calm, I can sense his satisfaction as he kisses his way up my chest until his lips are against mine again.

He tips his head and whispers in my ear. "That was beautiful, Bella." He realizes that I'm still trembling, so he leads me over to the couch. I look up at him and note that his pants are still straining with his arousal. I want to make him feel good too. I reach up to undo his belt. He smiles as I unzip his pants, and he watches every move I make.

"Is it wrong for me to want to touch you too?" I whisper.

"No," he gasps as I release him from his boxers and wrap my hand around his hardness. He places his hand over mine, leading it up and down with one hand, while the other takes my breast and then guides our hands so that the head of his cock is rubbing against my nipple. I feel him swell larger in my hand.

"I can't tell you how many times I have stroked myself imaging you doing this," he gasps.

_He's definitely a breast man_, I conclude. So I take his lead and continue rubbing him over my breasts, concentrating on the nipples while I slowly stroke him. I throw my head back while I do this so he has a clear view of what I am doing to him. I can tell it is making him wild. I look up to see his head hanging forward, watching my every move, and as our eyes meet I moan again and roll my eyes back with pleasure.

"Bella," he moans, "you are making me crazy."

"I really like how you show me that you want me," I whisper.

"I do, baby," he groans,. "…so much."

"You are so hard, James, so big." I moan because I can feel how he reacts to my words.

He looks undone. I love the way he feels in my hands and the control I have over him. As I stroke him, he caresses me, running his fingers through my hair, and I can tell he is fighting the urge to climax too soon.

I taunt him, "Is this what you want…what you imagined late at night in your bed?" My hand gradually speeds up.

"Yes, Bella," he groans. "It feels so good." I can tell he is close now.

He reaches forward and cups my breasts with both hands and gently pushes them together with his cock pressed in between. He moans as he begins to thrust. _Oh my._ As I look down and watch, my breasts overflowing in his strong hands, I have to admit it is unbelievably hot. His cock swells even larger as it slides in and out of my cleavage.

"Baby, I'm going to cum." And his eyes roll back, and through his gasps I hear a primal moan as his cock thrusts one last time and releases across my chest. He looks like he might topple over, so I grab the back of his thighs to steady him, and he gently strokes my breasts as he pulls away. I reach over and grab some Kleenex off the table. He takes it from me, carefully wiping my chest clean before he cleans himself up.

Our eyes lock while he pulls himself together. I can't tell exactly what he is thinking, but judging from his smile, it is all good.

"That was amazing. My God, what you do to me, Bella."

As I carefully fasten my bra and button up my shirt, I glance over at his clock and note that it is already fifteen minutes later than when he was supposed to leave. "I'm afraid we've made you late." I make a little face like we've been bad.

"Oh baby, it was so worth it. And he pulls me up and into his arms then murmurs in my ear. "You are so incredibly sexy, Bella. I hope you know you have enchanted me in every way." He kisses my cheek.

"Now that our project is over I'm going to plan something special for you. I'm going to take you up to Santa Barbara, somewhere fabulous, and we will play all weekend."

"Sounds amazing." I smile. I love the idea of being treated so well. I can't seem to resist the sentiment that bubbles up inside of me next.

_Fuck Edward if he doesn't understand what he could have had._

Santa Barbara here I come.

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**Well, even if you predicted this, I know how most of you feel about James so I think I'll run and hide again. But I'm hoping you are beginning to understand how emotionally complicated this is for Bella. Let me know what you think….**


	21. Chapter 21  Taking Flight

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved **

**Thank you to my beta Twilightzoner for giving it to me straight.**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Twenty-One / Taking Flight**

Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night! Bette Davis, _All About Eve_, 1950

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"Why would you assume that she did something to him?" Alice demands angrily. "He's the crazy one; he always acts erratic and you know it."

Home from my meeting with James, I've just opened my front door and evidently walked right into an argument Alice is having with Jasper.

Jasper's mouth is open, about to argue back when he sees me and he quickly clamps his mouth shut.

"Hey guys," I say weakly. "How are things going?"

Alice looks at me and rolls her eyes, while Jasper looks down and gently kicks the end of the couch.

I sigh and put my things down. "Look, it sounds like your argument included something about me, so why don't we all just talk about it?"

Jasper looks hesitant, but Alice dives right in.

"Well, _art boy_ has been on a rampage today. He blew off an interview, snapped at a gallery owner, and when the company showed up to crate and transport his final group of paintings for the Barcelona show he turned them away and said they weren't done."

"Why did you arrange for the transport company to come then?" I ask, turning to Jasper.

"Because yesterday he fucking told me they were done." Jasper throws his hands up in the air.

Alice and I look at each other. Obviously, this is the aftereffect of my blowout with Edward last night. I can tell she hasn't told Jasper about it yet—probably trying to buy me a little more time to deal with all that has happened. _Gotta love my loyal friend Alice._

Jasper continues. "Look, Bella, first I want to say that I have been encouraging Edward's friendship with you because obviously he cares about you and you have had a good effect on him."

_The irony of this sentiment doesn't escape me since Edward hasn't been supportive of Jasper and Alice's relationship._

"He is happier when you are around…calmer. And a calmer, happier Edward is a more productive Edward. There is also the added bonus that he is more fun to be around."

"Glad I can facilitate a happy Edward." I say curtly. His tone which implies that he cares more for how productive Edward is than how he is doing as a person really irritates me.

Jasper ignores my snarky comment. "But days like today I'm really concerned. Did you notice anything strange with him at the press run yesterday? He was very excited about it but then completely unhinged about something today. We are talking about really extreme mood swings here, and I'm seriously worried. It seems like all the pressure with work has really gotten to him."

Even though I know some of Edward's drama today was ignited by his anger towards me, I can't help remembering Rose talking about how worried she had become about Edward. Rose and Jasper after all are the two people in the world who know him best.

I decide to shift the direction of the conversation.

"Can I ask you something I've been wondering about Jasper? When we were in New York at Edward's show, I pulled him away from a bad scene when he was completely drunk and insulting James Alistair. Just before I got him in the cab he snapped and became…I don't know, I guess you would say catatonic-like a frozen zombie, and it totally freaked me out. Have you ever seen him behave like that?"

I decide to exclude mentioning his similar reaction last night to avoid giving the rest of the evening away. I look over to Jasper anxiously.

"Oh man, when he used to do that when we were younger it would completely freak me out. Then I went through a stage where it pissed me off because I thought he was doing it for attention. And now, well, it hardly ever happens anymore…around me at least." He shakes his head. "It's really freaky isn't it?"

I nod, agreeing.

"I had a chance to talk to his mom, Elizabeth, about it once when we were in college. I guess he has had episodes of them since he was a little boy. The way she explained it to me is that true catatonia is almost always attributed to schizophrenia or bi-polar disease, but there are also areas on the edge of the autistic spectrum that it has been connected to."

"But Edward isn't autistic," I argue.

"No, he isn't," Jasper agreed, "but he has been tested as having borderline Aspergers. Some of the ways it shows is his complete obsessive focus with his art and his educationally-based information about every aspect of art. His level of talent, focus, and knowledge has that savant quality. He has also always lived inside his head and struggled dealing with people. When I first met him he was completely non-social; he could barely interact with other kids. All through high school he didn't have regular friendships or even go on a single date. He would just draw and paint for hours and shut the world out. It also didn't help that he lacked the ability to censor this thoughts when he spoke. He's always had a short fuse, and when he snaps it can get really ugly. Elizabeth had him in therapy, and doing all kinds of things to improve, and it has improved a lot over the years, but it hasn't been an easy road for him.

I try to imagine Edward with the off-putting anti-social behavior of the couple of kids I have known growing up who I'd heard had some degree of Aspergers, and I just can't see it.

"Anyway, it is far more complex than I can explain here, but what I do know is that when Edward gets over-stimulated in an emotional way he completely shuts down, and that is what can happen…he can become catatonic.

"I do believe that Edward's mind works differently than the rest of ours. He told me once that there are times where the pictures and emotions flashing through his mind are so overwhelming that he can barely function. It contributes to his brilliance in his work, but the personal toll it takes-the price he pays is very steep."

Alice jumps in. "But he always seems pretty social to me."

"Well, some of it can be explained in that he appears to be unusually comfortable around Bella. But it's not just that." He walks over to the fireplace and looks up at my angel painting.

"The one thing I know for sure is that his girlfriend in college, Tanya, had a lot to do with his improvement. He had never been able to be that close to a girl, let alone fall in love, and she drew him out and changed him. It happened over time, and it was a startling transformation."

I feel my heart drop as Jasper describes this. The depth of my pain surprises me.

"I thought when she left him that he would revert back to who he had been. And for a while, immediately after the break-up, he was worse than ever. But once enough time had passed, he became even more social, more aggressive about becoming successful. That is when his career really took off."

I look over to Alice, and her face is twisted with sadness.

"What, Alice?" I ask, trying to get a read on what she is thinking.

"Oh, just realizing that the one girl he loved left him. Then his mom who adored him and helped him dies. And his father isn't in his life, and he doesn't have any brothers or sisters. Jasper, I know you are his friend, but let's face it-you are in business together. Then there is Rose, but you've told me she is really tough on him. Who does Edward have to really talk to when he is at the end of his rope? He seems to be under so much pressure all the time."

She shakes her head sadly. "I can't help it but feel a little bit sorry for him after hearing all of this."

And if she feels bad, she has no idea how confused I feel. Suddenly some of his trying to turn me into his savior-behavior is starting to make sense.

"Maybe you should try to talk to him?" she says softly to me.

I feel a wave of emotion surging through me, "No, I don't think so." Has she lost her mind? After what he did to me at the studio he's the last person I should try to help. Even if he has legitimate problems, it doesn't mean I should be the one to deal with it and try to fix him. This stuff is way over my head.

"Please, Bella," Jasper begs.

"I'm sorry Jasper, but I don't think I'm the best person to talk to him right now." Alice looks at me, but she isn't surprised. She knows I am still so angry with him for how he treated me.

I can tell Jasper is disappointed, but I stand my ground. After all, no matter what Edward's problem is—he isn't so dysfunctional that he couldn't have contacted me by now. If he really cared about me, he could have at least apologized for the way he yelled at me last night.

Later, I lay awake for a long time before sleep finally takes me. The pictures of Edward, frozen and expressionless, his body completely quiet while his mind a brilliant blur, haunts me. Even if I wanted to ease some of his burden, how much of a price would I have to pay to provide relief to such a tormented man? I know that the price is too high. The other resolution I come to is that I need some closure, if not with our relationship at least with the book project. I just have to figure out how.

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So with closure in mind, the next morning I set my alarm early with the intent of printing out the final draft of the book for Edward. Although I haven't decided yet how I am going to get it to him, I know it can be as simple as slipping it into the cardboard envelope and sending it through Fed Ex. I can be professional enough to acknowledge that even though Edward had agreed at the beginning to stay out of the writing process, at the very least he deserves to see the book before it goes to press. I wonder if his erratic behavior is why his approval of the final draft wasn't stipulated in his contract in the first place. My inkjet printer chugs along while I shower and have breakfast.

When I collect my book from the printer, there is a satisfaction in the pristine stack of pages, cleanly printed without scratchy editing notes scrawled all over them. I carefully set the pages in a folder and cradle it against my chest while I head to my car.

Work is quiet today. Jacob is at the dentist, so instead of printing I start out the day helping Emmett, and it feels good to be around someone who is calm and happy. We work through the logistics of some orders, and as noon creeps up he suggests that we have lunch together. We decide to walk over the little Italian café on the next block.

Emmett's stories of his dating life with Ted are entertaining. The contrast of the movie premiers and celebrity events with the quiet calm of their life when they just hang out keeps things interesting for both of them. And although it is much too early to consider something serious like living together, they still split their time between each other's places, and it is rare when they are not together.

I notice Emmett watching me carefully, and it makes me sad because I can sense how much he wants me to be happy, and I can't hide the fact from him that I'm not. He finally brings it up.

"What's up with you, Bella? You seem a little down.""

I nod my head, letting him know his instincts are right.

"Let me guess…is it the James and Edward juggle? It must not be working out too well."

I pause, trying to remember where we had left off last time we talked. "Oh, I'm so confused Emmett." I sigh, my face sinking forward into my hands as I prop my elbows on the table. "James, well, the thing with James has escalated. It's not just talk anymore, baby." I give him a look shaking my head.

"How hot!" he gushes. "Do tell."

"Let's just say buttons and zippers have been undone, and fun has occurred. Although we haven't done the wild thing yet, but only due to circumstances."

"Such as?" Emmett challenges me.

"He didn't want to fuck me on his office couch the first time we did it."

"I like that-a gentleman." Emmett nods.

"So when are you going to ride the pony?" he teases me.

"Well, he is talking about taking me to Santa Barbara or something."

"Romantic...he must really be into you, Bella." Emmett apparently isn't as freaked out about it as I expected him to be.

"I wish that it meant more to me." I sigh. "Don't get me wrong…I've had fun. He can be pretty damn hot, but I don't feel any tug in my heart for him. I don't think about him that much when I 'm not with him. It's just weird that way."

Emmett is listening quietly.

"He is certainly good looking for an older man, and he's sexy. I think part of it is that I am so flattered by his attention, and I look up to him, so he has been rather hard to resist. But if I was honest with myself, I'd admit he is a little too slick to me. There is something that I can't put my finger on, but I have a feeling he has a side to him I just haven't seen yet."

"It sounds like you mean not in a good way?" Emmett asks.

"I'm just not sure yet."

"So then, what is the latest with Edward?"

"We had a big blow out fight," I lament. "It was really awful. I doubt we will ever even be friends again."

"Well, there's your passion," he states simply. The honesty in his words cuts right to the bone.

"Yes, there's the passion, but at what price? As it is, the more I learn about Edward, the more messed up he seems to be. So the smart thing would be to exercise my escape clause. The book is done now, we aren't speaking because of our fight, so we can easily just part ways."

"But….?" Emmett leads me on.

"The man is in my head all the time. And I feel such a pull towards him. It just doesn't make sense. What a fucking mess Emmett. How am I ever going to resolve this?"

"How were things left with him?" he asks.

"He stormed out, and I haven't spoken to him since."

You have to talk to him, Bella. You have to tell him how you are feeling and why you think the argument happened."

_How horrifying._ I look up at the ceiling and tip my head back, trying to imagine having this conversation with him. Just the idea of it makes my insides flip flop.

Emmett then asks, "What was your fight about anyway?"

"He wanted to fuck me in the studio and not in a romantic way." I grimace.

"Sorry to say, Bella, but that really sounds hot. Where were you?" he asks, his eyes all lit up.

"I was printing when it started. I guess watching me print his art turned him on, and Jacob was in the back burning screens. Next thing you know we are up against the wall in the hallway, and he is all over me."

"Mmmmm." Emmett smiles as he moans. "So steamy. I know how attracted you are to him. Did you let him take you? Man, I would have let him."

"No, I pushed him off because I was worried about Jacob walking in on us, and I didn't want to do it in the storage room or something skanky like that. So he got really mad. I guess he thinks I gave him mixed messages. I was so shocked and confused as to what it meant. The whole thing happened so fast." My voice trails off.

"Well, things certainly have moved along since our last discussion, you little hottie you."

"Well, I don't know if I qualify as a hottie, Emmett. All I can think about right now is that Edward and I are no longer friends. One the one hand I am furious at him, and on the other I'm thinking about how much I'll miss him."

"You know, Bella, some people expect love to be handed to them like a gift, love in a box…all tied up with a big red bow. But it rarely happens like that. Sometimes it's rough and gritty, and you have to fight your way towards it."

I link arms with Emmett on the way back to the gallery. It feels good as we walk to lean into his strong solid body. The Santa Ana winds have started to pick up, my hair is whipping around my face, and I have to hold my skirt down so I don't put on a show for the passing traffic. And there is Emmett, laughing and teasing me as only Emmett can do.

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Back at the gallery, Jacob has returned from the dentist, and he is just heading to the studio so I join him.

"Hey, while you were at lunch the freak came looking for you," Jacob shares.

"Edward was here?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah, and he looked like hell. I'm surprised he had the balls to show up here after his bizarre behavior the other night."

"What did he say?" My heart is pounding.

"Not much, just that he _had _to talk to you. He wouldn't take no for an answer when I said not to wait. He looked frantic. I told him that I didn't know where you were, and that I hadn't seen you since your meeting with James last night."

_That's really helpful,_ I think angrily. And if that isn't bad enough Jacob continues.

"Oh yeah, I also asked him why it mattered since you had told me that you never wanted to see him again anyway." he looks quite pleased with himself over this gesture.

"Why in the fuck would you tell him that, Jacob? I never said that _I never wanted_ to see him again…I said that _I didn't think _we would see each other again."

"What's the difference? The fucker's long gone now." He smiles darkly.

"There's a big difference, Einstein."

"Well, I still think I did you a favor. You deserve better than him. I don't care how important his art is or whatever the fuck everyone sees in him. He stormed out of here like someone had stolen his car, his girl and his best friend all in one day. What a dramatic ass…good riddance."

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So now I am overcome with curiosity as to what Edward had to say. The fact that he finally had the guts to come here to try and talk with me weighs heavily on my mind. As we finish up our work in the gallery, Emmett asks what I 'm doing this evening, and I confide that if I summon the courage I may head to Malibu to take Edward the transcript for his book. While I am out there, if he feels like talking we will. If not, at least I will know that I returned the effort. I still don't want to be with him, but I may find the closure I'm craving. He smiles and wishes me luck.

Just before six I get in my car. The Santa Ana winds are really howling and palm fronds from the long towering palm trees that dot the streets are falling to the ground. I watch swirls of dust and city grit dance around my car, shimmering from the back lighting of the late afternoon sun. I sit for a moment wondering what to do. Do I go home and watch some _Sex in the City_ reruns, or do I get on the freeway? I rest the palm of my hand on Edward's folder-his story, sitting on my passenger seat, and I close my eyes. One choice is easy, the other risky, but ultimately, isn't it worse to not know what would have or could have happened? So the invisible rope winds around my waist and begins the pull towards Malibu.

The drive is a slow blur to me because I am compelled to relive the scene at the studio in my mind over and over. The what-ifs start. What if I hadn't stopped him but instead assisted him in undoing his belt buckle and opening his pants? The pictures of it are so raw and vivid in my mind that I can feel my entire body aroused and on fire. Such a part of me desperately wishes that we had fucked that night. Just to feel him inside of me would have been intoxicating, perhaps satiating the desire that has simmered in me from the day I met him.

As I get closer to Malibu, the sun is blazing low through my window as it slowly inches towards the horizon. I lower my car's visor and squint so I can see the road more clearly. I am picturing the look on his face while things were still good that night in the studio…in his eyes a look of lust and wanting, desperate wanting. He wasn't holding back-he was ready to physically give me everything.

_Fuck._ Why didn't I just let go and give into my passion for him? We had become so close lately. Finally being physical would have just added another shade, another hue to our relationship.

But then what if we had fucked? Afterwards, would I have joined the collection of art-whores whom he partakes of and then tosses aside? That would have been much worse, just the idea of it darkly crushing. My anger at him boils up again deflating my useless _what if_ fantasies.

I am so deep in thought that I almost miss the driveway leading down to Edward's house off Pacific Coast Highway. My hands are shaky as I punch in the security code at the gate, the memories of my last visit to his home haunting me. Yet the knowledge that the MOMA omission crisis that had brought me here last time had finished with a happy ending, maybe means that is a good omen for tonight.

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When I get to the bottom of the road I stop suddenly in the driveway. There is a rental car parked behind Edward's Porsche. A surge of panic shoots through me. It hadn't occurred to me that he could have company. But the desire to turn around and head home has weighed on me the entire drive over, so now it just feels like I should get this over with. I'll give him the book and leave. It's still early in the evening, so the worst I figure is that I will interrupt a dinner. I take my foot off the break and my car glides down next to his.

As I make my way along his garden path, I notice the front door is wide open. When I approach the entrance, I look in and don't see any sign of Edward, but I do notice an open bottle of Tequila on the side table. Its partner, an abandoned shot glass, lies on its side. Just beyond the table there is a sweater haphazardly spread on the floor. It is doing an awkward sloppy dance. This is the very type of foreshadowing that feels heavy handed and irritating in stories I read, movies I watch. In these cases I would turn the channel quickly or close the book and push it onto my nightstand. But tonight seems ripe for a train wreck, and I'm sick enough to not be willing to turn away from the carnage.

I take cautious steps forward, heading towards the main room. What hits me first are the sounds. The moaning and indecipherable words slam into me, rendering me without breath or presence of mind. _Oh my God, anything but this…anything but this Edward,_ my mind wails. I clutch the folder tighter to my chest trying to contain my exploding heart.

More steps forward until I've entered the scene. A tableaux from a European porn film lies before me; the French doors are thrown open with the ocean crashing just beyond. The sun, sharing its last rays of the day, skims over the scene casting sharp outlines of light and then darkening shadows. The girl is blond, the palest of yellows, which is striking against the very tanned skin. I marvel at the way she is folded over the table, her ample breasts pressed almost flat as her head is pulled back. Words fall out of her mouth, and in my stupor she could be speaking Swahili or Albanian for all I can understand. The fact that her skirt is pushed up over her hips and her panties are missing is not surprising, but expected.

The first parts of him that I notice are his hands. The right has her peroxide mane wrapped around it, and he is pulling hard as evidenced by how far her head is jerked back. The other hand is halfway between her hip and her ass, and the shadows indicate that his fingers are digging into the flesh harder than required.

My eyes now skim to his face, and I gasp quietly. He is ugly. I didn't think it was possible, but his beautiful features are twisted with hate and anger as he looks down on his golden goddess. And this fury isn't a good look for him. In the future he should avoid this, I quickly surmise.

His jeans are pushed down low on his hips and the gathering of fabric around his knees is a symphony of folds and shadows. As my eyes trail upwards, I am angry to see there is no shirt, as if the thin layer of a shirt would provide a shield of armor in case the whore pressed up against him.

I am stunned to finally hear his voice. "Fucking say it, Irina," he growls. "What in the hell do you want from me?" I can hear the Tequila in the slur of his words.

"Fuck me with your huge cock, Edward," she cries out. "Fuck me hard. I need it so bad."

He lets go of her and moves his hands to his belt buckle but he pauses as if he isn't sure if he wants to continue.

"What are you waiting for Edward? Fuck me already!" the blond goddess screams.

Okay, I think I'm done here. Yes, completely done. I'm so utterly shocked and overwhelmed that I'm numb. I'm really getting the potential benefit of the catatonic thing right now. But that wouldn't be so good, because I need my legs to move me out of here immediately.

Luckily I am in the shadows, so I take a silent step forward, just far enough to deposit the folder on the table. I'm not even thinking about whether it's a good idea to leave the book or not; I just know that I cannot have it in my presence another motherfucking second.

I take a silent step back and turn my head; my eye on the prize…his front door…my gateway out of this hell that is burning me more with each second passing.

Unfortunately, the next sound makes me snap my head back. A fierce wind slams one of the French doors hard into the wall. The curtains whip up. For a moment they are white flags suspended over the room. _God damn the Santa Ana winds._ And in the final act of my humiliation the folder peels open in a horrific slow motion, and the pages take flight, dozens of slender white birds furiously soaring all over the room. Several of the pages fly up against me and wrap around my waist and legs, and I reach down to tenderly peel them off and set them free.

The ugly face now turns toward me, and his expression falls. His displeasure that I am an audience to his tawdry show is quite evident. I quickly calculate that timing-wise I am at an advantage here. I am mere steps from the door, where he is on the far side of the room and has the blond one to deal with. She doesn't look like she is in the mood to share-so any attempt he makes to move towards me could be greatly compromised.

And I can tell from the look on his face that he will be following me. Of this I am eerily certain…so I must plan accordingly. I must think clearly even though I'm fairly convinced that I've losing all semblance of sanity as each moment passes.

I exercise my timing advantage as I head for the door, turning back only once to show him the devastation shadowed in my eyes. And despite his alcohol-induced stupor, he seems to understand; one more unspoken truth shared between us.

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**Thank you to all of my wonderful readers...your alerts, Favorite Story listings and reviews are so appreciated.  
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	22. Chapter 22  All That Matters

Stephanie Meyer owns the Twilight character names. I own Work of Art.

** Thank you to my beta TwilightZoner and my friend Farkle for turning this chapter around so quickly.**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Twenty-Two / All that Matters**

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I clearly underestimated how fast Edward can move when properly motivated.

When another blast of the Santa Ana wind pushes me faster out the front door, some pages of the book follow me into the garden. One page careens into the koi pond. It sickens me to see my efforts become fish food. My ridiculous miscalculation where I bend down and retrieve the soggy page gives Edward just enough time to reach the front door before I have completed my exit.

"BELLA!" His howl tears through me. His jeans are still fully fastened but now higher up on his waist. His expression is wild and frantic.

For a moment I look at him. The limp wet sheet of paper caught in my fingers is steadily dripping down on my shoes. Then I let go, hearing the faint slap as it hits the terracotta tile of the walkway. My bearings recovered, I bolt for the garden door. He charges after me, catches me by the wrist and pulls me back just inside the gate. My heart is pounding, and I can't possibly look at him.

"Bella!" His voice is demanding. But as soon as my name is spoken it seems he has no idea what to say. There is a pause as he continues to grip my wrist tightly. I am starting to lose feeling in my hand. I turn towards my car and will it towards me. I'd like to do a Batman move-fling myself inside my supercharged car and blast out of this fucked up situation. He waits for me to turn back.

"Why did you come, Bella? Why did you come?" he demands. His chest is heaving, and his voice now sounds remarkably sober.

"Because I wanted to talk to you" I reply simply, still turned away. My voice sounds dead.

"What did you want to say?" he asks frantically.

"It doesn't matter anymore," I assure him. "And don't worry… I won't be coming back." _You mother-fucker._

"Don't say it doesn't matter!" he suddenly yells. His fierceness scares me. "It's all that matters." His voice cracks with the revelation.

Hearing something, I look over his shoulder and see the blonde calling out to him. He hears it too and grimaces. The tears are streaming down my face now, and I can feel him taking in my tragic expression. Still I refuse to look him in the eye. I refuse to give him that.

"Shut up, Irina!" he roars. "Bella, please tell me why you came," he pleads.

"You shouldn't tell her to shut up, Edward," I glower, "because now _she's _all that matters. I'm finished here so let go of me." I shake my hand downwards so his grip loosens, and then I rush to my car.

My hands are shaking so badly that I can't get the key in the ignition, and as I fumble I hear an angry howl and then a crash near the house. I see a potted plant lying shattered in front of his garage door. I hear him scream, "It fucking matters, Bella!"

The key finally makes it in. I get the car started and quickly begin backing out.

CRASH. The sound is of pottery hitting a wall. I'm really glad the wall is his target and not me.

"BELLA!" there is a pause then more pottery and plant remains crash and fall to the ground. "It's _all that Matters_!"

As I tear up the driveway I hear one more crash, his howl echoing all around me, "BELLA!"

It isn't until my car is turned onto Pacific Coast Highway and accelerating straight ahead that I realize I've stopped breathing. My lungs ache as I suck in as much air as possible. I sense that I'm not steady enough to be driving, but all I can think about is getting as far away from Malibu as possible.

When my breath is finally just panting but not gasping, my mind starts to focus again. The damage from me seeing Edward with Irina, and Edward seeing my reaction, seems irreparable. The rage filled side of me is sure that I never want to see him again. But now that everything is final, I have to face the great irony that the idea of not seeing him again actually feels heartbreaking. As I come to that conclusion, the next idea hits me full force as I wind my car through the canyon away from him…

Edward has broken my heart. And perhaps, through all of the events that led us here, I have also broken his as well.

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As I get closer to home, I have the overwhelming feeling that I don't want to be alone. I decide to call Emmett, and after hearing the tone of my voice he insists that I come over. I drive straight to his house.

Once inside we sit on the couch, and before I can even start explaining what happened I start crying. Then as he reaches over to rub my back I start sobbing hard. He pulls me into his arms and just lets me cry while making little soothing noises and rocking me gently. Emmett seems to know just what I need, never pushing me to explain what happened. He knows that I went out to see Edward, so I'm sure he assumes that it didn't go well. At some point I will tell him the gory details, but I'm just not up for it now.

By the time Ted gets off work and comes over, I have calmed down somewhat. So they decide to lighten the mood by making margaritas, and Emmett whips up his homemade guacamole. We plow through that pretty quickly-so we broil up some quesadillas. After a few margaritas they are laughing and joking with me. I even manage to smile despite my pain.

Later in the evening we decide to move the party into the Jacuzzi. There is nothing more _PG_ than a straight woman in a Jacuzzi with two gay men. Since I don't have a swimsuit with me, Emmett loans me one of his T-shirts, and I keep my panties on to prevent any flashing. It's not my most glamorous appearance, but it's worth it to soak in the steamy water.

Ted has us in stitches with his stories of celebrity debauchery. Despite the eerie under lighting from the Jacuzzi, I observe Ted and Emmett's regard for each other. They deserve all the good things they share together. The thought makes me wonder again… don't I deserve someone good too? Can't I have something uncomplicated and sweet?

I look up and notice the sky is an inky black, moonless and still now that the winds have died down. I make up my mind that despite my disappointment, despite the fact that a dream has slipped through my fingers-I need to be tough and not let it flatten me.

..~*~..

The next morning I wake early, despite my margarita headache. I refuse to let my mind replay the scene in Malibu, and instead my resolve to be strong is still alive and ready to take on the day. As I lay in bed several ideas occur to me. But I am about to find out that Alice has her own plan for me today.

"Good morning, Bella!" she sings at me, her early morning enthusiasm jarring.

"Alice." I nod as I reach for the coffee.

"What are you doing today?" There is something in her tone that makes me suspicious. She takes my pause as a good sign. Before I can respond she jumps in.

"I was hoping, really hoping, that you could help me today." She gives me a big grin.

"Help how?"

"Well, do you remember me mentioning the _Princess High Tea_ Disney Events was putting on?" Her grin is definitely forced this time.

"Yes." I'm not liking the direction this is going.

"Well, it's today. I have to go for research, and I had told Jacob that I would take his little sister. But Friday they called and asked if I could help with some logistics during the event. If Jacob can't come with us I'm not sure what I'm going to do with Nessie."

"Let me understand this. You want me to go to a princess high tea so that I can babysit Jacob's little sister?"

"Yes." Her chin is tipped down in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

"Okay," My response surprises even me, but I love Alice, and it wouldn't kill me to help her out. Besides it will get my mind off things.

She throws her arms around me and exclaims, "Thank you, Bella!"

Jacob and Nessie show up just after noon. I haven't seen Nessie in awhile, and even though she 's only four it looks like she's grown quite a bit. I hope she fits into one of those obnoxious princess dresses that Alice brought home for her.

When Jacob hears that I am going, he agrees to come along. This ought to be amusing… he most uber-male guy I know at a little girls' high tea. I'm wearing a floral sundress and silver sandals in the spirit of the event. Of course, hanging with Mr. Torn Jeans & Muscle Tee takes my effort down a notch, but I'm grateful for his company. As it is we are going to the Sports bar this evening as I promised to pay off my debt from the disaster on Wednesday night, so we have a full day ahead of us.

The event is in a cavernous ballroom next to the El Capitán Theatre in Hollywood. Most of the attendees have watched Disney's latest princess movie in the theater before heading over to the confection filled venue. It is a shrine to all things girly-girl, with pink, glitter and flowers in abundance.

I keep looking down at Nessie, who is repeatedly yanking off her tiara and pulling on her dress.

"What, Nessie?" Jacob asks, clearly irritated.

"This thing itches," she whines. "I don't wanna wear this!" She announces this three times a little louder with each repetition, finally stomping her feet.

I smirk, secretly delighted. _You go, Nessie! Don't buy into the propaganda!_ But I realize that we have to get through this event somehow, and I don't think encouraging her is a good idea. I am sure that her little worn jeans and Pokemon T-shirt outfit that she wore over to our apartment before we changed her won't be welcomed here.

"But Nessie," I coo at her, "you are so beautiful in that dress."

"No princess, Bewwa," she states, her little face twisted in frustration. "I wanna be Buzz Wightyear!"

Jacob looks at me and shrugs his shoulders. "She's a tomboy."

"So why is she here, Jacob?" I roll my eyes. "This is like passing through the gates of hell for a tomboy."

"Yeah, I guess," he admits. "I didn't realize it would be this bad."

I resort to bribery. "Hey, Nessie, do you remember that Disney store we passed before we came in here?"

Her arms are crossed defiantly but she nods. Small children have great instincts for when they are about to be manipulated.

"I bet they have some cool Buzz Lightyear toys in there."

She nods vigorously.

"I'll make you a deal, Nessie." I bend down and get close to her ear. "If you wear the princess dress and be a good girl through the tea, I promise I will buy you a Buzz Lightyear toy as soon as we are done here."

"You promise?" she asks, apparently needing extra assurance.

"I promise."

She knows which side her bread is buttered on. She immediately climbs into an empty chair at the table right in front of us and folds her hands in her lap. Jacob and I quickly sit down on either side of her.

"Good girl," I purr as I pick up one of the plates of little sandwiches to serve Nessie, and Jacob pours her pink punch. Our table soon fills up with other little princesses and their mothers. Most of the girls proudly wear their beaded tiaras, and they wave their magic wands every time a costumed princess walks by.

Jacob sticks out like a sore thumb. He has already cleaned off half the platter of little sandwiches. He pops them in his mouth whole. Although some of the mothers seem uncomfortable to have their little ones share a table with Mr. Muscle Man, I notice a couple of them checking him out. He is pleased.

Meanwhile, Alice is charging around trying to get the costumed princesses organized. She looks pissed. I guess the model the agency sent over to play Snow White had lied on her stats, and the dress is too tight for her. It looks like the tea will be short a princess.

Luckily, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Belle, Ariel and Jasmine fit the bill perfectly. They wander through the event posing for photos and charming the girls. With only a minor reminder of the bribe, we get Nessie to take a few pictures. She doesn't look happy about it, but we can only expect so much.

After about an hour I've had enough. If only I'd had the foresight to slip a flask in my purse. The whole thing would have been more tolerable if I could have juiced up my fruit punch.

We say goodbye to Alice, collect Nessie's goodie bag, and head straight to the Disney Store. Nessie picks out a talking Buzz Lightyear doll complete with a clear plastic bubble helmet. As we take her back to Jacob's parents' home she holds him in her arms like he's the chosen one. It must be nice to be able to find your soul mate so easily and at such a reasonable price. The added bonus is that he only speaks when you press his button.

We hang out at Jacob's parents' for a few hours before heading over to the sports bar. My nerves start grating as soon as we walk in the door of Champs, where the waitresses wear mock cheerleader uniforms. I note that realistically, cheerleaders couldn't wear these get ups. The tops are so low cut that with one brisk move the game could become _X_-rated.

As Jacob heads to the bar to get us beer, I look around. Why is it necessary to have a TV every five feet? When Jacob returns he points out that they are each showing different games, some with different sports. I don't find this reassuring.

We decide to eat in the bar instead of the restaurant section, so we grab the last empty table. We each order burgers with fries, and Jacob adds on nachos and an order of buffalo wings. The guy still eats like a teenager.

I'm still so emotionally worn out that I'm not careful about my alcohol intake, and before you know it I'm pleasantly numb. Jacob is trying to explain the rules of soccer to me, and I know I'm drunk because I'm trying to pay attention.

There is a group of regulars at the bar that seem to know Jacob. They start teasing him about his girlfriend. And it takes a bit for me to realize that they are talking about me. To placate them he moves closer to me and wraps his arm over my shoulder. He also kisses me on the cheek periodically. I'm debating whether to punch him next time he does.

The combination of the atmosphere and alcohol prompts Jacob to rehash the _Why can't we be more than friends?_ topic again.

"Bella," he whispers, as he leans towards me and begins to massage my neck. "When are you finally going to realize that I'm the man for you?"

I'm hoping he is just trying to provoke me, and I have to admit that it is working.

"When are you going to realize that I'm not the woman for you?" I fold my arms over my chest and give him a stern look. "We are so different in every way. Can't you see that?"

"Sure, but you know the saying…_opposites attract_," he counters with a seductive smile.

Is this a show for the guys at the bar? I notice a couple of them watching us closely.

"Not in this case," I insist. "Besides, what happened with that girl Taylor that you were dating?"

"Nothing happened." He shrugs his large shoulders. "We had no chemistry together. Not like you and me, baby." He winks, play-acting the Romeo of the sports bar.

"Baby?" I give him a very stern look.

"Okay, sorry," he offers, looking down. "Is this about Masen? You have something going on with him don't you?"

"No, you don't need to worry. This has nothing to do with Masen." Being reminded of Edward brings the pain back that I have been trying to push down all day. "You may remember I had a fight with him at the studio Wednesday, and then you took care of things when he came to see me a couple of days later. That gives you an indication how things are with Edward and me." And with that announcement, I stand up and pull my handbag over my shoulder. "Okay, time for me to go. Can you drive me home or should I call a cab?"

Jacob apologizes the entire walk to his car but then reaches for a hug before opening my door. I am hesitant, but I let him fold his strong arms around me as lean into him. He holds the hug and slowly runs his hand back and forth on my lower back. He sighs and pulls me closer, and I realize the beer has lowered his defenses. He rubs his face along my cheek and then kisses it, and I turn away just before he tries to kiss me on the lips.

I gently push him away until there is a foot of space between us. My hands remain on his chest to preserve the distance.

"Jacob, what did we just talk about?" I give him a serious look. I must need a break from men in general. All of these complications are just exhausting me.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I get close to you, and the pull is so strong I have a hard time remembering to be good. Don't be mad at me, please don't." And it is hard to stay mad at him when he looks so sad. It pains me to know how long he has had a thing for me that has always been one-sided. There's almost nothing worse than unrequited love.

"You know I love you Jacob, but not in that way… so please don't push it anymore."

He gives me a long look searching my eyes for any wavering, and when he doesn't see it he finally seems to accept it and he turns towards the car.

Although I try to initiate conversation by asking about his friends at the sports bar and what games were most interesting, he only gives short perfunctory answers and so I drop it. We remain silent for the rest of the way to my apartment.

..~*~..

The next morning I have just finished my cereal and coffee when the phone rings. I'm surprised to see that the call is from Rose, considering she never gets up early on Sunday.

"Hey what's up Rose?"

"Hey, Bella" She sounds tense, and I hear another muffled voice in the background talking to her. "Listen, when was the last time you talked to or heard from Edward?"

"Friday night," I respond, my curiosity piqued. "Why?"

"What was his mood like when you talked last? Was he okay?"

She is starting to scare me. "Why, Rose? What is going on?"

"Answer me Bella," she barks at me. "Was he okay?"

"No." I take a deep breath.

"Fucking hold on, Jasper!" I hear her command, despite it being evident that she moved the phone away from her before speaking.

"I need to know what happened," she insists, talking to me again.

"We had a fight, and I left."

"Fuck! That's just what I was afraid of.

"They had a fight. She hasn't heard from him either." She is speaking to Jasper again.

"How upset was he? I really need to know, Bella."

"Very upset," I admit. "And I'm getting very upset too now, because you aren't telling me what is going on. Is Edward okay?"

'Listen, can you come out here so we can talk? Lauren is just leaving the house to come pick me up, and I can have her swing by your place and grab you."

"Come out there… to Malibu?"

"Yes, there are some things I need to show you. We need to talk, but let me call Lauren so I can catch her. I'll call you right back." She hangs up abruptly.

I am freaked out. What in the hell is going on? My heart starts sinking because going back out to Edward's is about the last place on earth I want to go right now. Even knowing he isn't home, it is still going to force me to relive what happened Friday night in a much more intense way than if I stayed here at home filling my day with distractions.

Despite my hesitation, I start throwing on my clothes and I brush my teeth. The phone rings again.

"Okay, Lauren will be at your place in ten minutes. Can you meet her out front?"

"Yes," I respond. "I'm almost ready. But you have to tell me what is going on. I'm completely stressed out."

"Where do I start?" Rose answers, talking to herself as much as to me. "Well, Jasper hasn't been able to reach Edward since Friday night. They had plans to meet yesterday before lunch. So when he still hadn't called and didn't show up, Jasper became concerned. Finally, early this morning he drove out to Malibu to check on him."

I could already assume that Jasper didn't find Edward, but I still had to ask. "Was there any indication where Edward could have gone?"

"No, no sign of where he could have gone, but…"

I interrupt her. "When I got to his place Friday evening, he was with that blonde named Irina. Edward had told me once that he goes out with her occasionally. Do you remember her? Maybe you could call her?" I think there is a chance he could have left with Irina, but considering his reaction to her that night, I'm not so sure. Still it's worth a shot.

"Irina?" she snaps. "That idiot he was with the night we went to the Urth Café after yoga? That's who he was with?"

"Yes, that Irina."

"Okay, we'll try to reach her, but I still need you to come here, Bella."

"You know Rose I've been through enough crap with Edward and I'm done. I really don't want to come out to his place when I'm trying to forget about him."

"I know baby" she moans. "I'm sorry to ask you to do this. You know I wouldn't if it wasn't so important to me."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I'm just scared something bad has happened to him. When Jasper showed up he thought Edward had been robbed. His front door was wide open, and there was broken shit everywhere like the place had been trashed. But as he walked around, he realized that all the stuff robbers would take like TVs and cameras were still here."

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.

"And then he couldn't find Edward-yet his car is parked outside. Then he discovered the paintings, and Bella, I'm so worried. I've never seen anything like this. You've just got to come here and see what I'm talking about.

Even though I never want to see Edward again, it pains me to hear my normally stoic Rose so desperate. She knows I would do anything for her.

I walk over to our front window and look down. I can see Lauren's car waiting out on the street.

"Lauren's here. Hold on, Rose, we're on our way."

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**Sorry guys, I attended the Snowqueen Icedragon school of cliffies…**


	23. Chapter 23  Missing

**Hello from Comic Con! I've attended the FanFic panel and picnic which were great fun, but for me the highlight was the friendships I've made here. I've had an extraordinary time. **

Thanks to my beta TwilightZoner for all of your help

To follow me on Twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

Check out the new Work of Art forum: http:/www (dot) .twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034 remove dots and spaces

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**Work of Art / Chapter Twenty-Three / Missing**

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_When painting, an artist must take care not to trap his soul in the canvas_. ~Terri Guillemets

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I hurry down the stairs and get in the car with Lauren. She hits the gas before I've even finished buckling my seatbelt. I look over and notice how tense her face is.

"Hey Lauren, thanks for picking me up."

She glances over at me and doesn't even try to fake a smile. "Sure, no problem. I'm grateful for the company on the drive anyway."

I wonder if she knows anymore than I do about the situation with Edward. "When did you guys find out about this?"

Her grip tightens on the steering wheel. "The phone rang at seven a.m. Scared the hell out of us. You know how you worry that someone has died or something."

I nod my head and swallow hard.

"Jasper had just gotten to Edward's house and completely freaked out. He got Rose so worked up I was really worried about her. I still am. She jumped in the car before I could stop her and headed out there."

"That's our Rose. She is such a loyal friend," I declare.

"Yes." Lauren sighs. "And Edward has been such an incredible friend to us…I get sick all over thinking something has happened to him."

I feel a surge of pain and panic sweep over me. Rose and Lauren know Edward a lot better than I do. If they are this scared for him it is not a good sign. I wonder if Lauren knows my part in this.

"Did Rose tell you that I saw him Friday night?"

She glances over at me and seems to be considering her words. She only nods.

"Well, I just hope that there is something we can do. Even though we had a fight I care about him. I would never want anything bad to happen to him."

"I know, I know," she says, giving me a gentle smile. "And no matter what you fought about, I know he really cares about you too."

I want to ask why she thinks that but instead I remain quiet. My arms fold tightly over my chest trying to contain all the emotions surging through me.

Lauren turns on the iPod player in her Prius and we are soothed by the sounds of Corrine Bailey Rae as we continue our journey.

As we descend out of the canyons, we fall into a thick blanket of foggy overcast so typical in the morning at the beach. The wet gray suits my somber mood. We are finally on PCH in Malibu, and the closer we get to the house the more I start to panic. Lauren senses this and kindly tries to distract me by talking about the plans she is making for her and Rose's honeymoon. She suddenly stops talking as we pull up in front of Edward's house. From our viewpoint as we park, we face the first signs that something is very wrong. There is broken pottery everywhere along with the scattered remains of what the pots had once held. The garage door and walls are covered with markings from where the impacts had been. This is considerably more damage than I remember happening before I drove off Friday. In the heat of his fury Edward must have kept throwing things.

We gingerly step over the shards and enter the front garden. Even though the sun is starting to burn through the fog it is still quite cool, and I shiver as I look around. Evidently more of the book has blown into the yard, and now the garden is sadly decorated with the wandering pages. Several white rectangles are perched up in the trees, captured by branches. Some are in the flowerbeds, others floating on top of the koi pond like a very fine layer of the whitest snow. The sight of it makes me feel humiliated and hopeless.

One of the dining room chairs is mysteriously lying on its side on the lawn, a fallen soldier undoubtedly surprised to be part of the melee. I breathe a sign of relief to see it is nowhere near the tree and it's branches-my mind haunted by the idea of a noose dangling from a tree.

_Quit being such a drama queen_, I scold myself. He wouldn't do something that stupid over a fight with me.

Rose suddenly appears in the doorway to the house and walks quickly into Lauren's open arms. She nestles her face into Lauren's shoulder and lets out a heavy sigh as her lover rubs her back gently.

I turn away feeling like I am intruding on an intimate moment, but then Rose calls me over and I join them in a group hug.

When we break apart I ask, "Where's Jasper?"

"He's in the studio," Rose responds. "We will go see him a little later. Come on." She motions for us to follow her in the house.

The first thing I notice is broken glass all over the floor and the stench of alcohol. "Watch your step," Rose warns.

I look up and see where the glass had hit the wall. I remember the bottle of tequila that had been lying on the table nearby. I'm assuming Edward threw it but what if Irina had? She couldn't have been too happy to be told to shut up. I smirk inwardly. She must have heard him say that I was_ all that mattered_. This gives me a tiny sliver of satisfaction.

I note that the sweater that had been tossed on the floor Friday night is no longer there. White pages are scattered all over the room.

The dining room table has been knocked over, the remaining chairs all askew. One of the sheer white curtains has been ripped off the rod. It's as if a savage animal tore through the house. Could Edward have that much rage?

A framed picture lies smashed on the floor. We can see a dent in the wall's plaster where it must have hit before falling down to the tiles. Rose carefully picks it up, and we all peer at it trying to distinguish the image underneath the shattered glass. It is a photo of Edward accepting an award.

"The Whitney Biannual," Rose whispers. "Damn, Edward." I see her eyes tense up again as she stares at the broken image. She gingerly sets it on a nearby side table.

I go over to the couch and sit down, then lean forward resting my face in my hands.

Rose walks over to me and rests her hands on my shoulders. "Come on, let's go out on the deck and talk."

The sun has broken through and is lighting up the patio, such a contrast to the darkness of my mood. We curl up on the large teak chairs with royal blue cushions in his outdoor living room which is shaded by the pergola overhang covered in apricot colored bougainvillea. I take a deep breath and allow myself to feel soothed by the ocean breeze brushing across me.

"Can you tell me what happened, baby?" Rose asks gently.

I start by explaining the scene at the printing studio since it is really where everything went wrong. She doesn't look surprised when I tell her that Edward tried to seduce me. But she does seem surprised to hear that I was into it at first. She raises her eyebrows as I tell that part of the story but she doesn't say anything about it. She also doesn't sound surprised about Jacob's report of Edward becoming catatonic after I had left. Instead she just nods as she listens.

The story gets even more painful to tell once we get to the part about my visiting him Friday night. I drop my head and close my eyes as I recant the part of seeing Edward getting ready to fuck Irina.

"The worst part is that if I hadn't left the book, if I'd just turned around and quietly crept out, he would have never even known I was there. It wouldn't have changed how upsetting it was for me, but he wouldn't have gone nuts from my reaction."

"You don't know, Bella," Rose reminds me. "He may already have been nuts by that point. That would explain why he was having angry sex with Irina. He doesn't give a shit about her."

"Well, the irony is that I have come full circle in my reaction to what happened that night. It was really the shock of walking in the middle of something so intimately ugly that made me react so dramatically. But by yesterday, when I had calmed down and gotten some perspective, I had to remind myself that Edward and I don't have any type of commitment…it's not like we are dating. There is no reason we couldn't date and sleep with other people. I've been messing around with James…so how is that different?"

"When has logic ever been relevant in love?" she scoffs. "Besides James is a viable candidate for you to date-he at least has something to offer you. Irina is just a trashy art-whore and Edward knows it. There is a difference because of the intentions behind the actions."

I shrug my shoulders. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm done with crazy artists."

"So you think," states Rose cryptically.

She tips her head, and her eyes look in the distance for a moment. "Jasper said he was a beast on Thursday and then he was unreachable on Friday."

I twist my hands in my lap remembering Jasper and Alice arguing about Edward Thursday night. "I just wish I knew what I could have done to prevent this. I don't want to feel like I pushed the guy over the edge or something."

"There's more I want to talk to you about, but first we should go to the studio. I want to warn you Jasper is really upset so take anything he says with a grain of salt," Rose warns.

_Why would he be upset with me?_ I wonder.

To avoid facing the chaos inside again we weave between the palm trees walking along the yard on the side of the house until we reach the front of the studio. Rose grabs my arm to stop me before I go in. "Bella, I've got to warn you…this may freak you out. But I'm here, okay?"

I nod but I am sure I am wearing my heart on my sleeve. She has completely scared me, and my face must reveal how I am feeling. I take a deep breath to ready myself for more chaos, and I slowly step inside.

At first I am surprised by the quiet and cleanliness of the studio. Nothing has been smashed or overturned. Everything is as pristine as I remember it. I look over at Jasper and our eyes connect before he turns away.

_What? What!_ My eyes wander back around the studio looking for the piece of the puzzle I am missing. And then it hits me like a ton of bricks, and I stumble forward before Rose catches me.

Five large paintings are leaning against the wall. I immediately calculate that these are the paintings that were supposed to be on their way to Barcelona. They are gorgeous-all color and emotion. But at this point I must admit that they _were _gorgeous before Edward altered them.

For across each canvas a large letter has been slapped across the face in dripping black paint. It is savage…the most brutal form of graffiti to have something so beautiful defaced with so little regard.

"No," I groan, reaching towards the paintings as if I could undo the mess with a wave of my hand. For Edward has crushed me with his final message scrawled across his work. My eyes move left to right, painting to painting.

B-E-L-L-A.

One letter per painting…each one a cry in the dark, a surrender, a loss.

Well, if there had been any lingering doubts as to Jasper's theory that Edward was obsessed with me, those doubts have now been put to rest. Replacing them is an anguish that if I had understood the depths of Edward's feelings, perhaps I could have prevented this roundtable of agony.

"I'm fucking tempted to just send them to Barcelona like this, damn it!" Jasper spits out, as he paces back and forth in front of the paintings.

"I don't think so," Rose responds. "You don't want him to leave him open for ridicule."

"What the fuck was he thinking Rose!" Jasper yells. "He knew these paintings were late."

"The problem is that he wasn't thinking," Rose answers with sadness in her voice.

"Can't he fix them?" I ask searching for an answer.

"Well, we would have to find him first, wouldn't we?" asks Jasper exasperatedly. "And so far we haven't gotten anywhere with that."

"Did you reach Irina?" I ask Rose, turning towards her.

"Yes, I did. She wasn't very helpful. She told me that she didn't care if she ever saw the fucker again. Before she hung up she did admit that she left Friday night right after you did so she wasn't aware of the rest of what happened around here."

The twisted part of me was happy to know she didn't stay and party with Edward after I had I had left.

Lauren then speaks up and I am startled because I didn't even realize she was in here with us.

"What about that art restoration guy you know Rose?"

"Yes," Rose agrees. "Actually Jasper, you are the one who told me about him."

"I've already called him and he is on his way over," Jasper confirms. "Hopefully he can fix them. I'm going to try him again to see where he is." Jasper steps out of the studio into the garden with his cell phone.

"So you can see now why I called you, Bella. You had to see all this to understand the depth of it," Rose says gently.

I nod my head in disbelief. "I had no idea."

"I have one more thing to show you." She leads me over to his desk. She carefully opens a large folder. On top there is a computer printout of the ee cummings poem he had quoted for me. In the margin of the print-out he has doodled my name a number of times in different sizes and styles. She hands it to me so I can examine it more closely.

I hand the page back to her. "That doesn't mean anything," I argue. He could have been talking to me on the phone while he was doodling.

"It's a love poem, Bella."

"I know that. Still…"

"Well, let me hear what excuse you have for this." She tenderly peels back a sheet of parchment paper revealing a piece of heavy watercolor paper. On it is a drawing version of the photo he emailed me from the day we went thrift store shopping for paintings. It is exquisitely detailed and has accents of soft colors from what looks like pastels.

He has drawn me to look far more beautiful than I am, and for a moment I am transported away from our current crisis and my heart soars. To think such a beautiful piece of art was created in my likeness takes my breath away. But more than that, it hits me that this drawing was done when things were good between us. Unlike my angel painting, which was created as my gift, this drawing he did for himself. It is quietly beautiful, not the rage-filled scrawling of my name that stands before us in the studio.

This drawing holds the truth of how Edward had once seen me, and I ache now for all that we have lost.

Rose points out something in the bottom corner and I lean in closer to see. Handwritten in small letters Edward has written: _My Bella..._

I turn and quickly walk out of the studio with Rose right on my heels. I just need a moment away from all of this. I start down the stairs that lead to the beach noticing that she is still following me. When I get to the sand, I sink down just beyond the edge of where the final part of each wave touches the shore. Rose comes and sits down next to me. We are silent for at least a minute, both of us just gazing out over the horizon. The fog has completely burned off now, revealing a lazy blue sky scattered with birds. They are circling the water looking into the murky depths for their prey. Otherwise the beach is empty and full of promise for a brilliant day.

"This is so ironic," I finally say, digging my heels into the warm sand. "All this time I thought he had no romantic interest in me. He treated me like a buddy. I didn't have any real idea until the night of the printing, but even then I thought he only wanted me to get fucked."

Rose turns to me. "Remember my party in New York? I had an argument with Edward that night because I wanted him to stay away from you. I knew you were the perfect girl for him, and I even told him so. But I didn't want him with you because he's too messed up for a relationship right now."

I look over at Rose, reflecting carefully on what she is saying.

"It is clear to me now that he tried to avoid falling for you, but in the end he couldn't help himself. And now that he knows he has ruined everything and... he isn't going to take that well."

"I just wish he would have talked to me," I lament. "There were so many times he could have talked to me about it."

Rose tips her face toward the sun and closes her eyes. "Oh, but I'm sure he was much too scared to let his guard down. Ever since Tanya left him back in college, he has sworn he will never let himself fall in love again."

_So part of this is Tanya's fault_, I surmise.

"What exactly happened with this Tanya person anyway? Did she sleep with his best friend or something?"

Rose reaches down and sifts the sand through her fingers. The sun is warm, but we are continually misted from the crashing waves just beyond. She takes a deep breath.

"Do you want to hear the story?"

I nod silently.

"It all started I guess about twelve years ago. Tanya and Edward met the first week of Pratt. She was not only a beautiful golden blonde but she had the most charismatic personality. Everyone loved her and most everyone was drawn to her.

"She really had her pick of men. And of course there was Edward, so gorgeous and talented. You could tell right away that he was going to be an important artist."

I pull my bent knees into my chest, already jealous of the beautiful couple. Rose continues on.

"But Edward had a really odd personality, very anti-social. We were roommates our first year but we didn't even talk that much back then. I was always out with friends, and he seemed to prefer to be alone. Conversations he had with everyone were usually one-sided and awkward. I think Tanya saw him as a challenge. She worked really hard to penetrate through his barriers. And slowly, painfully she brought him to life.

"It was such a gradual progression that most of us didn't realize it until the second year how much he had changed. It was around this time that he and I finally became good friends. We were working on a big project together and he had grown comfortable with me so he confided in me a lot. He was completely wild about Tanya, and sometimes he had trouble containing his passion for her. He was obsessive and smothering, and I was always telling him to give her some space. The hardest part for me was that I knew she didn't feel the same for him. By the end of the first year she was fucking around with other guys. I have no idea how she hid it from him. I think he was just in denial and would have believed anything she told him."

_Fucking Tanya_, I simmer inwardly. _How could she do that to him?_ I try to regain my composure as I look off in the distance. I notice a small boy and his father attempting to fly a kite further down the shoreline.

Rose's voice is sounding tired as if the story is sucking the life out of her.

"So as she gradually started to pull away, he started realizing that it was happening, and he panicked. Holding onto her took over his life, and everything else suffered: his work, his health and his mind. It was painful to watch. You know he had never been in love before, so he couldn't seem to imagine how he could go on without her if she broke up with him." At this point Rose wraps her arms around her torso. Her face is tense-her expression sad.

"Then one evening almost halfway through our second year, he came back from a long day of painting in the studio and she was gone. She had cleared all of her stuff out of their place, and all that was left was a note she left him. Just like that…done. The pathetic note said something about needing a fresh start somewhere else, and that she wouldn't be back…but that she would always love him and want the best for him….blah, blah, blah. He managed to call me that night before he went over the edge, and I rushed over. God that was a scary time…he was so far gone."

Instinctively I press my face into my hands, hurting for Edward. I am learning so much about him from this story, and I can feel it altering every thought I have ever had about him.

Rose grimaces as she continues. "I found out later that the bitch had run off to Alaska with one of her teachers. He had some special project in Denali, and he took her with him. When Edward found out about that he didn't eat or speak for three days, and I finally had to call his mom so she could come help him. It was either that or have him committed, and I couldn't do that to Edward. That would have killed him.

His mom….God, I loved that woman. She stayed by his side hoping he would start to get a grip. But it soon became apparent that this was going to be a long recovery. So she formally pulled him out of school and brought him home for the rest of the spring semester and following summer. He never told me exactly what he did during that time, but I know his mom got him a lot of help. I emailed him almost every day and he would scan little drawings he was doing and send them to me. I think he thought his art was all he had left so he poured himself into his work two hundred percent.

That fall he returned to school and the day he moved back I went over to visit. I was prepared to help him through what I assumed would be a rough transition. But I turned out to be completely wrong about that. It was like he was a completely different person: confident and cocky, aggressive and flirtatious. I was pretty shocked. He had somehow morphed into the male version of Tanya. It was so bizarre.

Within weeks he had fucked half the girls in our class, and he went on to conquer most of the females in the art department with little regard to preferences or decorum. Whatever point he was trying to make, I thought it was pretty gross.

But there were plenty of times where I knew the real Edward was there somewhere inside. When we hung out with Sam and some of the other guys, we had a great time. I had plenty of good times with him one-on-one too. As for what he did otherwise, I just stayed out of the drama, and believe me there was lots of drama. He never seemed to care about anyone that he slept with, and he always managed to leave a path of destruction in his wake.

I shuddered at the thought of what appears to be the birth of the man-whore in Edward. "So he never came close to falling in love with someone else?"

"Oh no," Rose insists. "He made sure that would never happen again. It was as if his heart had just shut down. Once Tanya had burned him, he wasn't going to ever make himself that vulnerable again.

We pause, and Rose lies back into the sand propping herself up on her elbows so she can still watch the waves. Another idea starts to bother me.

"Did Tanya ever come back? Did she contact him during that time?"

"Nope, not a word. What a bitch, huh? One time when we were drunk I remember Edward telling me that his new persona was all for Tanya. I still don't know exactly what he met by that, but I have my theories. The one thing he knew for sure is that she didn't want him the way he used to be. So for damn sure he turned himself into someone almost the complete opposite of who he was."

I look up and notice a fluffy little carmel-colored dog running along the shore with his owner. Rose is watching them too and smiles at them before she turns back to me.

"I also think it's why he pushed himself so hard with his work. I think he thought that if he became successful, she would want him again. And as it turns out the more successful he has become, the more troubled he seems to be."

I nod, remembering Edward expressing something very similar to me once about himself. Now I see the revelation in a different light, realizing how much of his life has been impacted by chasing Tanya's ghost.

"The irony is that a few years ago I ran into one of our old classmates who had stayed in contact with Tanya. Evidently she had a kid with her art teacher guy and was a part-time tour guide in Alaska. The loser bitch, all high and mighty that she was going to turn the art world upside down, and she's in a short bus riding around and lecturing fat tourists in their rain slickers. Fuck her. The bitch got what she deserved for what she did to Edward."

"Does Edward know that?" I inwardly enjoy the image of her on the tour bus a little too much.

"No I decided not to tell him. I concluded that it would only make him feel worse that she rejected him and what they had for that kind of life.

"I wish his mom was here, especially during times like this. He adored her and would do anything to make her proud of him. And she in turn just wanted him to be happy. He needs that kind of support and unconditional love. He knows he can depend on his small circle of old friends, but it just isn't the same."

I nod, knowing all too well what she means.

Rose stands up and takes several steps towards the water letting the approaching wave wash over her feet. I stand up and join her, marveling at how good the most simple pleasures can be. If only the ocean could wash away all this disappointment and pain.

"You know, Bella," she says, her eyes closing for a few long seconds, "I love Edward. I really do. He has been a true friend to me, and I would do anything to help him. When Bree and I had our tumultuous relationship he listened and supported me endlessly without telling me what to do. And then when Bree left he dropped everything to take care of me. Did you know that I stayed with him here in Malibu for almost a month during all of that? Some nights he would just hold me while I cried."

Her memories of Edward remind me of how he took care of me after the robbery. I saw a side to him through that that I didn't even know existed.

"Come on," Rose murmurs while motioning for me to join her on the trek back to the house. "I'm having a blood sugar crash so I need to get something to eat. Then we will figure out what to do next."

I nod and follow her. When we get up to the house we talk to Lauren and decide to go over to the Country Mart to get lunch. Jasper is meeting with the restoration guy so he won't be able to join us. Right as we are getting ready to leave Jasper walks over to me.

"Bella, Lauren told me I was an ass to you earlier. I'm sorry if I came off that way, but I'm just completely freaked out and worried about Edward. I even called the coast guard this morning to make sure something didn't happen to him. I mean Edward is a strong swimmer, but I had to ask to make sure."

"I understand, Jasper," I reassure him. "I'm freaked out too." I push my sunglasses back on my head. "I swear I didn't understand what was going on with Edward, and I wish I had because perhaps all of this could have been prevented."

"I don't know," he responds. "Edward is a force of nature. Once he focuses on something or someone, I've learned to just get out of the way. There is no stopping him."

"Are you worried that he would do something to himself?" I ask.

"No, not that. We have a friend that we recently found out had killed himself. Edward got so mad about it, insisting that it is the most selfish, soul-less thing a person can do. He felt so strongly about it that I know he wouldn't do himself in."

He slips his hands in his back pockets and rocks forward. "Nothing is important right but finding him. I just need to help him….and not because of the business, or how many paintings I need to sell, but because I care about him, Bella. Do you believe me?"

"Yes, I do."

"Thank you." He reaches out for me and gives me a hug. As we pull away our eyes meet, and he sees my sincerity.

"I want to do what ever I can to help because despite everything, I care about him too."

Jasper nods to acknowledge what I've said. We share a silent understanding and commitment to finding Edward.

And in my heart I resolve that I will be a force of nature too…if that's what it takes to bring Edward back home.

.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**


	24. Chapter 24  Thank God for Girlfriends

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

**Thank you to my beta Twilightzoner-I know I'm a handful and you put up with me anyway.**

_The Abstract Way_

_Sometimes there is a clear path we march along, our heads held high, our goal in sight. But more often we are led down the abstract way where the twists and turns are so jagged that we can't see our way forward. We keep moving along because we have no choice…that is what life asks of us._

_As we take each step our journey is fueled by the hope that the answers we seek are up ahead…just around the bend of the abstract way._

* * *

.

**Work of Art / Chapter Twenty-Four / Thank God for Girlfriends **

As we pull into the parking lot at the Country Mart, I observe that there is nothing country-ish about this collection of chic boutiques that surround a lush lawn and little playground in Malibu. Luckily, Rose appears to know the maître d` at the Italian café we plan to lunch at, so we immediately get seated at a choice table outside facing the playground.

There is certainly interesting people-watching here. Nannies gently push babies on the bucket and belted swings while the beautiful mothers chat and text on the iPhones from nearby benches. There is also a contingency of hippie-chic mothers wearing yoga pants or flowing skirts in the sandbox trenches with their babies where colorful sand toys abound. The cool dads with their worn designer jeans and aviator sunglasses talk amongst themselves about their cars and the price of private schools. Small children in hip designer clothes freely chase each other around the playground. It's another world in Malibu.

Despite all the money and hipness, I have to admit that it is more relaxed here than the vibe in West Hollywood or Beverly Hills. _Must be the sea air,_ I conclude.

Yet the calm vibe is lost on us. It feels ridiculous being here considering we are all sick with worry over Edward. As soon as we sit down the contrast of the beautiful people versus our dark, worried moods is too much to take. I have never felt so out of place, and I can't tell if Rose and Lauren are feeling the same or just too shell shocked to know how they feel. We debate leaving but then decide to get a bottle of wine to numb the pain while we regroup and plan our next strategy. The waiter brings us a basket of freshly baked bread with a little dish of chopped olives and garlic in olive oil for dipping. My stomach is churning so I push it away.

The entire drive over I have been meditating on my conversation with Jasper, and now I'm anxious to talk about it. I begin by drilling Rose on anyone in Edward's life that he may gone to stay with. She lists his small circle of friends confirming that she and Jasper called them while we were driving over, and none of them have heard anything from or about Edward.

Rose then explains that when she had shown up at the house this morning Jasper had already put together a list and taken action. He had spoken to the neighbors, the local market, Starbucks and Edward's favorite café. Evidently this is the guy you want around in a crisis.

Next he and Rose went down to scour the beach with Jasper heading South and Rose North although they didn't have to cover too much ground. In Malibu one can only go so far before the rock formations cut off the walking area of the beach. By the time Lauren and I arrived it was clear that Edward had managed to vanish without leaving a clue or word with anyone.

So then I ask Rose about Edward's family. She explains that since he and his dad are estranged, there is only one person who is still a potential lead. Rose shares what she knows about Edward's aunt.

"His mom had a sister named Ann. I met her a couple of times. Last time I saw her was at Elizabeth's funeral. The two sisters were very close, but I believe she lives in New York."

"Do you think he could be with her?"

"It's possible," Rose replies, "but I have no idea how to find her. I don't even know her last name." She shakes her head, resting her chin in her hand. "We found his cell phone and laptop in the house. So wherever he went he can't be easily reached. We tried to go on his computer to see if we could find any clues, but we didn't have his password and his phone is locked."

A wave of frustration rolls through me but I am determined not to give up easily. Edward has become a real life _Where's Waldo?_ puzzle. L.A. is one of the biggest cities in the world, I think with frustration. It's not like you can go door to door asking about a thirty year old runaway. Perhaps Carlisle and Esme can help me find Edward's aunt.

We polish off most of the wine and rehash all the possible places Edward might be when Rose's phone rings. She reads her screen aloud, "Jasper," then immediately takes the call.

"Jasper, what's up?" We watch the intensity of her expression and her eyes suddenly widen.

"On your home machine? How did he sound?" She nods anxiously as she listens.

"So tell me again exactly what he said."

Lauren reaches over and takes Rose's hand.

"He didn't say when he was coming back or how we could reach him?"

"Yeah, he knew you wouldn't be able to trace that call. He doesn't want us finding him. Our boy is clever all right."

"Okay, okay…I guess that's better than not knowing anything. At least he said he wants to get his shit together. That's a good sign, don't you think?"

When they hang up, Rose's face falls into her hands and she leans into the table. I can feel the relief emanating off her. As she straightens up, I see her eyes are rimmed with tears. I reach out and put my hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, I was so worried. Thank God he's okay," she gasps.

"What did Jasper say?" Lauren questions.

"Edward must have finally calmed down enough to realize how worried we would be. So he purposely called on Jasper's archaic phone machine when he knew he wouldn't be home so he could reassure us but not have to talk to us either."

"So there was no indication where he was, or how long he would be gone?" I ask.

Rose shakes her head soberly. "No."

"But he did say he is getting help and that he wants to be better," she confirms.

"Well, that's good," I chime in. "Don't you think that is encouraging?"

"I suppose," Rose responds. "But I wish I could talk to him directly."

"We will keep trying until we find him, Rose. You'll be talking to him before you know it," I assure her.

She gives me a hopeful smile as she leans back into her chair and sighs.

.

With the good news of having some word about Edward we try to regain our bearings. Lauren decides to change the subject to lighten the mood. "So Bella, do you have any other plans for your writing now that you are done with the book project?"

"Well, the first thing I want to do is finish the story I've been working on with my writing group."

Rose jumps in. "You know, I would really love to read Edward's book now that you are done. Would that be okay?"

I am flattered. "Sure, I'll email it to you when I get home. But you have to promise not to show it to anyone else and to give me an honest opinion when you are done with it."

"Okay, I promise," she quips, giving me one of the first smiles of the day. "But you must know that I have high expectations."

"Gee thanks," I mutter. "Is that supposed to be comforting?

"Oh, I'm sure it is great, Bella," Lauren assures me. Rose picks up a menu and starts to scan the choices while listening to us.

"Well, I must admit that James was very excited about it when it was all done. He gave me quite a compliment….said it was one of the best things he has read in this genre." I raise my eyebrows and scrunch up my face. "Of course he could have just been trying to be nice."

"Bullshit," Rose barks setting the menu down. "James wouldn't blow air up your skirt with a fake review. That's not his style. He can be a real hard ass with his opinions. Speaking of which, has he been blowing your skirt up in a hot way, missy? I heard he was working with you very _hands-on, _if you know what I mean."

I can feel my face burning with embarrassment. "Yeah, he seems….how shall I put it, rather intrigued with me."

"What did I tell you, Lauren?" Rose points out to her lover. "They all want to get into her pants."

"I'm not surprised about that either," Lauren responds, laughing.

"Well, he does want to get into my pants but after seeing what I saw this morning, I am staying away from all men for a while. I seem to have a fabulous track record for bringing out the best in people. I even crushed Jacob's ego on Saturday when I wouldn't let him kiss me. Yup, I am done with men for a while."

"Does that mean you are coming over to our side?" Lauren asks excitedly. "I have a friend that I've been wanting to match you up with."

"Sorry, Lauren. I didn't mean that. It's just not my thing…although I have to admit that sometimes I wish it were. Men are infuriating."

Rose nods. "You know, Bella, I don't want to see you shut down again. Why don't you just loosen up and fuck James for a while? It doesn't have to be a great big romance. He's too old for you anyway. But why sit at home when you can be having some fun with a guy that seems to adore you?"

She waves to the waiter so she can finally get something to eat besides bread.

"You just want to make sure I keep my mind off Edward, don't you?" I challenge her.

Rose gives me _the look_, but I know I'm not far off the mark. "I do want you to keep your mind off Edward, Bella. He needs some serious work, and I don't want to see you sucked into his drama. You know this obsession he has with you is not healthy nor any way to start a relationship. He already was starting to depend on you too much emotionally. Then he tried to make things physical, and now he's seems to have gone off the deep end.

Just then the waiter approaches so she quickly gives her order. Lauren decides to order a pizza and offers to give me some. As soon as the waiter leaves Rose continues.

"Let us worry about taking care of Edward when he comes back. You two need a healthy break from each other. Besides I want to see you with someone who is able to give and not just take emotionally."

As much as I hate to admit it, I know she is right. Edward's obsessive, volatile nature scares me especially since it had gotten out of control. I still want to help them find him but now that we know Edward is safe and actually working on himself I realize that I can take this time to get my head on straight about him too.

..~*~..

Later when I'm home I fire up my laptop to forward Rose the book. Once that is taken care of, I scan through my emails. I notice one from James.

_Hello Beautiful,_

_I hope you are having a wonderful weekend. I have thought about you often and have been craving your company. Can you join me for lunch on Wednesday?_

_James_

I don't respond immediately, turning Rose's advice over in my head. I somehow doubt that lunch with James will get my mind off Edward, but maybe she's right that I need to try.

_Hi James,_

_Lunch would be lovely. _

_Looking forward to seeing you._

_Bella_

_ ..~*~..  
_

As it turns out, Carlisle and Emmett aren't in the gallery on Monday due to some meetings with a couple of galleries in Laguna Beach, so Jacob and I spend the day printing Edward's work. At one point I lament to myself that Edward has now infiltrated every area of my life, but I soldier on through the afternoon even though he keeps popping up in my head. I had hoped to see if I could make any headway with Carlisle finding Edward's aunt but it will have to wait until tomorrow.

I guess it is my week for surprises because when I return home that evening I find a creature I have never encountered before: an enraged Alice. I have honestly never seen Alice so angry, and I find it a little frightening.

"Are you okay, Alice?" I ask gingerly, as I drop my purse on the table.

"No," she barks. "I am definitely NOT okay."

"Did I do something?" I question, wracking my brain to remember what I may have done.

"No, it's not you, Bella…but it sure as hell is everyone else."

I breathe a sigh of relief before pressing on. "So what happened?"

"Let me start with my fucking boss-Brad," she rants. "The fucker threw me under the bus and had me take a hit for something that wasn't even my fault. I got chewed out by his boss and then sent home by H.R. because I threw a fit in his office."

"Shit!" I exclaim. This definitely doesn't sound like typical Alice behavior.

"No kidding. That god damned home shopping channel QVC with their god damned drop test!"

"Drop test?" I ponder aloud.

"That's what I got in trouble for. Yeah, QVC is so anal about stuff breaking in shipping that they put every item they offer through a ten foot drop test to make sure it can survive the crazy antics at UPS and Fed Ex." She rolls her eyes. "So my team designed a Princess deluxe snow globe that our head of merchandising later decided should be the featured QVC _item of the day_. On the Disney QVC time slot whatever merchandise is chosen to be _item of the day_ has a huge financial expectation for sales. This snow globe should have never been presented to them because sure enough, every time they dropped one of those suckers the princesses' heads would snap off inside the globe."

I cringe imagining a little girl being presented with this fancy snow globe only to realize that Cinderella and her friends are decapitated and their little heads are floating through the scene. _Not good_, I surmise.

"I kept warning the buyer and throwing a fit with the sourcing department, saying that this design cannot work for a QVC item….I knew it would never pass the drop test. But did they listen to Tinkerbell? Fuck no, because none of those assholes take me seriously! But who is the first one they point fingers at….me!

"I mean I work my ass off for these people! Who was there all day Saturday at that fucking high tea dealing those idiotic models and all their princess demands? Was Brad there, hell no!

"And now there is a mountain of snow globes sitting in the QVC warehouse with reject stickers all over them and they are yelling at me that this is a quarter of a million dollar mistake. What do they expect me to do…pay them back? Well, fuck all of them. They can take their headless princess snow globe and shove it right up their asses."

I cringe at that most unpleasant visual.

"Then on the way home I get a call from Nicki, my college roommate. And she calls to tell me that she is getting married. I'm happy for her Bella, really I am, but then she proceeds to ask me to be her number one bridesmaid. I guess her sister will be her maid of honor. But since her sister lives far away and can't be of much help, she would like _me_ to throw her several showers: a girly afternoon tea one, a couples' one in the evening, and then a lingerie shower held in a club or Vegas or something. Can you fucking believe it?"

She storms over to the hall closet and yanks the door open then pulls out two incredibly ugly, poufy dresses. Do you know how many times I have done the thankless job of being a maid of honor or bridesmaid?_ Just suck it up and deal, _I say before stepping into the pile of shit from being a slave to a crazy bride. _Just suck it up for your friend._ Well I'm done sucking it up, Bella. I'm fucking done.

"So when Bridezilla gets snarky with me because I'm not jumping up and down to be her bridesmaid whipping girl, I have to get off the phone before I tell her off. I am so pissed off at this point that I am going to burst, so I call Jasper in tears and tell him that I need some loving.

"You wanted sex at that point?" I ask with admiration.

"Hell no, I just wanted him to hold me. But I guess you're right, fucking would have relieved some stress. I say _would have _because my dear boyfriend is too busy trying to be Magnum P.I. or something and find his fucked up artist to take the time to look after me in my crisis."

_Ugh,_ now Edward's disappearance is even affecting Alice's relationship.

Alice starts getting louder. "You know everyone thinks I am so happy and so together, and that I don't have a care in the world. And sure some of that is my fault. I've spent a lifetime creating that facade. It started when I was a kid because I would do anything to keep my parents from fighting. But I'm not happy and carefree all the time. I am as tormented as anyone else."

I look at her and I'm shocked. Of all the years we have lived together, I have never seen this side of Alice.

"Do you know how many nights I wake up panicked in the middle of the night? Panicked that I am not going to be able to cut it at work when they expect more and more? Every time I turn around there is another reorganization, and I think I 'm going to lose my job. Then how will I take care of myself? Because I don't want a god damn man to take care of me because as soon as you depend on them they fuck your best friend and leave you. So I lay in bed night after night terrified. Then I think about getting a glass of wine to relax but that makes me panic that I'm going to turn into a closet drunk like my mom who was always taking _naps_ after her afternoon benders and forgetting to make us dinner. And so I get up and eat some cookies and then I worry that I'm getting fat and will end up some seven hundred pound woman that can't get out her front door. I never even worried about that shit until my father sent me to a fat camp before my sophomore year because he said I was getting chunky. I spent a month around really fat kids and came home terrified to eat anything. I know it sounds psycho but I really worry about all this shit."

She storms over to the closet door, slamming it as hard as she can, and I remain silent, afraid to set her off any further.

"So all these years I've trained myself to put on a cheerful façade…to be happy even if I was crumbling inside. And what do I get for that? Everyone thinks I'm a vapid idiot. Well fuck all of that. I'm done being bubbly.

"_Say hello to your new roommate," she booms._

She sweeps her arms up dramatically_. _

"_Ladies and Gentleman, duck your heads, watch out for your children, the new darker Alice has entered the building!"_

She throws herself on the couch and presses a pillow to her chest in anguish.

I stand silently stunned. _Wow._ And I realize in that very moment, that I have never loved Alice more than I do right now. She is magnificent in her fury. My brain races to estimate what will be the most appropriate response. I march into the kitchen and hurriedly place a number of items on a tray and carry it into the living room. Alice watches me warily as I set the tray before her. First I open up the wine and pour us each two glasses filled just short of the brim. Then I peel the lid off the pint of Haagen-Dazs chocolate-chocolate chip ice cream to let it soften before we can attack it with our spoons.

"I'm right there with you, baby," I announce. "Fuck all of it. Let's just be two angry bitches…two angry fat wino bitches together! It's you and me against the world!" I take a sip so wine doesn't splash out before I dramatically lift my glass saluting my angry girl.

Her eyes soften imperceptibly but then the corners of her mouth edge up as she realizes that I'm on her side. My sweet Alice has always supported me, and I'm grateful for a chance to support her. She reaches for her glass and takes a long sip before we clink our glasses in solidarity.

Thank God for our girlfriends.

.

We are halfway through the pint of ice cream and getting sloppy from the wine when my cell phone rings. I put my spoon down and pick it up.

"Bella!" Rose shouts out joyfully.

_Has she found Edward? _

"What Rose, what?"

"I just finished the book, baby….you rocked it so hard….you brilliant bitch you!"

I can feel the smile explode across my face, pure joy radiating out of me. "Really, Rose? You really like it?"

"Like it? I love it. It is perfect Bella…so smart yet with this great young, fresh attitude. Once I started it I couldn't put it down. I seriously think it's the best book I've read about an artist. You totally got him. He must be blown away."

"Actually, as evident by the pages scattered all over his house and garden, I don't believe he has read it yet."

"You have got to be kidding!" she moans. "This will knock him out. Oh, he has to read it."

"Yeah, if we could only find him."

"Okay, but I want to focus on you right now, you fabulous writer you. Will you promise to do something for me?"

"Anything, Rose. You know I would do anything for you."

"Okay, when it's my time to have a book, and I know it will happen at some point…will you write it for me, baby?"

A tear skates along the edge of my eye. "It would be my honor."

The thought hits me again…_thank God for our girlfriends._

_..~*~..  
_

Although I tackle Carlisle first thing in the morning, the only help he is able to provide me with is sharing Edward's father's contact information. Evidently Edward Masen Sr. is a customer of Carlisle's and has bought a number of originals over the years. I suspect that considering Edward's non-relationship with his dad that this will be a dead end, but I will take what I can get at this point. Even though Edward doesn't want to talk to us I don't think any of us are going to feel settled until he at least speaks directly with Rose or Jasper.

Before I attempt to call Mr. Masen I decide to check in with Jasper only when I do I find out that he hasn't made any headway either. _Damn._ Before we hang up, he asks me about Alice.

"Hey Bella, I'm not trying to involve you in my problems or anything, but how is Alice doing? She won't return any of my messages."

"Yeah, she was pretty disappointed in you last night. She did seem a little better this morning though. You know she had a really hard day yesterday, right?"

"Yeah," he groans, "but I didn't realize how upset she actually was until I was already in the doghouse. She always seems so happy that it's hard to tell if she is ever really upset."

"Well, I think that's going to be changing from now on. I think she is sick of trying to always be upbeat and taking care of everyone else before she takes care of herself."

"That's good. I want her to do what she needs to do for herself. I just wish I knew how to make this better."

He gets some points for that so I decide to give him some advice. "Why don't you call her and tell her that you would like to take her on a special date tonight to cheer her up. Bring her flowers. She really likes the bright colorful Gerber daisies, especially the arrangements at that shop on Melrose, The Enchanted Florist_._ Then take her to Fireflyfor dinner. She loves that place but call ahead and reserve a table by the fireplace. Then once you are settled at the table take her hand and tell her that you adore every part of her-including the angry unhappy side and that you always want to be there for her. Explain that you just didn't realize how bad things were and that you will do your very best not to let her down again." I pause for moment thinking. "Yeah, that should do it."

He sighs into the phone. "See that's what men need…just spell it out for us and we are more than happy to get it done. I'm going to call for reservations right now. Thanks, Bella."

"My pleasure, Jasper…and good luck tonight."

.

After lunch I go to the patio behind the gallery and pull out my cell phone. I am very hesitant to make this call. Once again, I am throwing myself into Edward's personal business all in the name of helping him. But really, do I have any boundaries when it comes to this man? I am probably a candidate for a long stay in a padded room.

To prepare me Carlisle has provided me with as much as he knows. Edward Masen Sr. is a veteran producer for film and television. His biggest moneymakers were a series of action films but he also produced a popular series about teenagers living in Beverly Hills for HBO that later went on to have a number of successful spin-offs. In the slippery slope of Hollywood, he seems to have the magic touch. But like so many of the famous in tinsel town, he lacks the magic touch in his personal life. He has been married and divorced three times, and has three sets of offspring, Edward being his oldest child. He lives in a sprawling Mediterranean home off Sunset not far from the Beverly Hills Hotel. The number Carlisle provided me was for his office on the lot at Paramount.

My fingers shake a little as I imput Mr. Masen's number.

"Mr. Masen's office, how may I help you."

"Yes is Mr. Masen in? My name is Bella Swan and I was given his number by Carlisle Cullen."

"One moment please, Ms. Swan," she responds promptly.

There is a long wait before he finally picks up the call.

"Masen here." His voice is strong and direct. I hear an intonation similar to Edward's voice.

"Thanks for taking my call, Mr. Masen," I respond as politely as I can. "I'm Bella Swan and I not only work for Carlisle Cullen but I'm a good friend of your son Edward…"

He cuts me off before I can get in another word.

"If this is about Edward, Ms. Swan, then this conversation is over."

My heart falls but I can't give up yet. This man might hold the key that unlocks the door to finding Edward. At this point it is our last option. I frantically search for the words that will keep him from slamming the receiver down, the quiet buzz of our phone connection a fragile ribbon pressed between my childlike fingers. One wrong move and my balloon of hope will slip out of my grasp and soar away from me…never to return.

I clear my throat and prepare to grovel.

.

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	25. Chapter 25  The Squeaky Wheel

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Twenty-Five / The Squeaky Wheel**

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Despite my initial intent to grovel I am struck by a moment of insight. It occurs to me that I am talking to a Hollywood producer, so a little drama might be effective.

"Mr. Masen," I say quickly, "I know better than anyone what an_ asshole_ Edward can be but he helped me recently out of a jam and I owe the asshole a favor."

I hold my breath knowing this approach is risky, but my gut tells me it was the way to go.

He chuckles and asks, "Are you his girlfriend, Bella?"

"In his dreams," I snort. "No I am his biographer, occasional companion and personal savior."

He laughs hardily. "I like you young lady. I'll bet you're pretty too."

A flirt, I can see that he is the tree that Edward's apple didn't fall far from.

"So I've been told. But I'm still not his girlfriend. I'm too good for him."

"Hmmm, I'm sure you are right. Okay, what can I do for you, the beautiful Ms. Bella?"

"Well, Edward had a melt-down and disappeared, and we are thinking he may be staying with a relative because none of his friends know where he is. We are thinking he may be with his aunt, but we have no idea how to reach her."

"That's my son," he laments. "He's such a damn hot head. He may be with Ann," he replies thoughtfully. "That's not a bad guess."

"Do you happen to have her contact information?"

"No, I haven't seen Ann in years."

"Well, how about her last name and where she may be living?'

He pauses for a moment. I can hear what sounds like a pen tapping a desk. "Emmerson, Ann Emmerson," he says finally. "She could be living anywhere. She seemed to move around a lot. But I remember that she was a pretty successful photographer. Why don't you see if she has a website?"

"Great idea," I say appreciatively. "I will try that. I can't thank you enough for helping me."

"Well, it's _you_ I'm helping my dear because you seem worth it. Perhaps if the asshole ever starts talking to me again, you and I will have a chance to meet."

"I'd really like that."

'You know, my son should end up with someone like you. A strong woman is exactly what he needs to chase the demons out of him. His mother babied him too fucking much with all of his issues.'

'They were very close, weren't they?"

"I'll say, more often than not I felt like the third wheel, and you know that isn't good for a marriage. But look, I know I was a lousy husband and father. I was never around-always working. And Edward expected things from me that I never delivered, but I can't rewrite our past history. And he needs to fucking grow up and let it go if we are ever going to have a relationship."

"I agree. And if I ever find him, I'm going to tell him that, for you and for me, Mr. Masen."

"You do that my dear. You are really something." He pauses for a moment. "Did you really write his biography?"

"Yes, I did," I state proudly.

"Will you let me know when it comes out so I can get a copy?"

"I'll send you one." Just then I hear a rustle of papers and I realize I have taken enough of his time. "Well, I'll let you go now but thank you so much, Mr. Masen. It was a pleasure talking with you."

"And I have a feeling it won't be the last time. I'll look forward to meeting you one day, Ms. Bella Swan."

.

As I hang up I partake in a moment of self-congratulatory splendor. _Score one for Bella, _I inwardly cheer, enjoying that my sassy attitude paid off. I should go into politics, because my various antics with Edward have shown off my previously undiscovered diplomatic abilities.

For a moment I wonder about Edward's father. I'm not sure what I expected, but I found him intriguing. I wish I knew more than just the surface reasons why he and Edward can't seem to have a relationship.

As soon as I get back inside I go on the computer and do a search on Ann Emmerson, photographer. Sure enough a number of galleries and articles come up, but as I scroll down I find what I'm looking for: AnnEmmersonPhotography _.com._

On the home page there is a beautiful black and white photograph of a beach chair overturned on the shore, the setting sun's light skimming over the water. As much as I'd like to go through her portfolio of images, I have not forgotten my intent, and I click on the _contact me_ icon. Bingo! There is not just an email link, but a 1-800 number listed. I raise my arms up in victory.

Picking up my cell phone, I try to imagine what I am going to say to Ms. Emmerson. The realization hits me that I probably shouldn't be the one to call. If Edward is with her, he probably has told her what happened between us, and she may be wary to talk to me. Just knowing that makes me feel worse for a moment, but I decide not to dwell on it and instead keep moving ahead. I call Rose.

"Hey Bella, what's up?"

"Rose, I've got good news. I found a way to contact Edward's aunt. I spoke with his dad and got her name, found out she is an established photographer, then found her website with contact information."

"Bella the super-sleuth!" Rose brags. "I am impressed."

"Yeah, well the problem is that I probably shouldn't be the one to call since he is upset with me. Do you want to do it?"

"Of course."

After I give her the information she promises to call and let me know as soon as she hears anything. She calls back ten minutes later to let me know she sent an email, and although she only got an answering machine on the phone, she left a message there too. Now we must play the waiting game.

Soon after we hang up I get a call from Jane at _ArtForum _letting me know that they need a photograph and short bio of me for the book jacket. I go to Emmett in a panic, but he reminds me that Esme is a photographer and he will talk to her about doing my portrait. He also instructs me to rough out a bio during lunch and he and Carlisle will review it.

.

That night in bed I am tormented as all of the drama in my recent days seems to hit me as soon as my head hits the pillow. My mind is spinning and I can't settle down. I flip back and forth in bed hoping to fall asleep, but my body just seems unwilling to surrender to it. One of the things I can't seem to let go of is that despite my trying to get over my crazy Edward, there is a part of me that desperately wants to see him again. All of the things I have learned about him since our last confrontation have had an enormous effect on my perception of him.

We have had moments of such closeness, but now he feels like a stranger. I try to imagine what it will be like when Edward and I see each other again. Even if we try to avoid each other, with our growing list of mutual friends it seems inevitable that we will run into each other at an opening or party. Will he ignore me, or try to talk to me? There is just no way to know at this point.

But I can't forget the other side to this equation-that I really need to take care of myself and not get sucked into Edward's dark world and the unhealthy dynamic that can be stirred up between us. I know that is why Rose is pushing me to keep seeing James so that my attention is somewhere else. Am I pathetic for craving the way James makes me feel? I'm having lunch with him tomorrow, and I know he will fawn over me the way no one else ever has. It is addicting even if my heart dangerously lies somewhere else.

.

Rose calls me before I leave for work to give me an update. She just heard back from Ann and was relieved to find out that indeed Edward is with her at her home in Ojai. Evidently after Bella had left Friday night, he just walked out of the house and never stopped walking until he was almost to Oxnard, almost twenty miles away. _Bloody hell_, just the idea of zombie Edward trudging along the Pacific Coast Highway freaks me out. It was daybreak when he called Ann from a Dennys' payphone, and she had him wait in the coffee shop until she could get him since it was almost an hour's drive from Ojai.

Ann remembered Rose and they were able to talk frankly about Edward's condition. He is in serious shape emotionally. As a result, Edward is either sleeping or sitting in the backyard for hours at a stretch and she hasn't been able to get him to talk much yet. But she has heard some of the details of his confrontation with Bella. She confirmed that he isn't willing to talk to any of his friends right now, even Rose. The good news though is that Ann was able to get a referral to a great therapist in Santa Monica and she has been doing phone sessions with Edward almost every day. When he eventually returns home he will be able to see her in her office.

Before they said goodbye Ann assured her that she would help Edward all she could and she and Rose should touch base again in a couple of days. Although it is great to know he is in good hands, it is also a somber idea to think of him so broken. Once again I have no idea what he is really thinking, and as a result I had no idea how, or if, I can help him. But at least we know now that in his current state he is probably in the best hands he could be, and our sense of urgency to get him back home is diminished.

Before Rose and I hang up she decides to take a practical approach, putting her energy into trying to help get his house in order. She worries that when he finally returns home, seeing the result of his rage will only set him back. Jasper's conservation guy has already repaired the paintings and they are on their way to Barcelona-so that is a big relief. Rose decides she will hire her friend Delia to go over to Edward's and clean up the mess and repair what she can. It's such a thoughtful idea, but I sadly realize that returning home to a quiet settled house will not guarantee that he will be quiet and settled inside where it matters most.

..~*~..

It's a busy morning in the gallery, so I ask Carlisle if I can work later in the evening to make up for taking a longer lunch. He agrees, as he is usually gracious and accommodating when it comes to special requests.

James has made reservations at Pane e Vino, and when I arrive I am taken to the patio where he is already seated at a corner table under a large umbrella. He stands up as I approach the table and he looks very happy to see me as we embrace before settling down in our seats.

"I've missed you, Bella. I'm so glad you could meet me for lunch."

I smile at him. It warms my heart to see how delighted he is to be with me. He already has ordered a bottle of Proseco, and he fills our glasses. I take a sip and close my eyes, feeling the sweet burn slide down my throat.

"It's good to see you too," I offer demurely as his eyes skim over me. I have worn a fitted top with a lower neckline for his benefit, and he apparently appreciates my gesture. He looks handsome to me as well, his blue eyes bright behind the tortoise shell glasses I love so much. His hair is a bit longer, which I find sexy on him. I fight the urge to run my fingers through it, and he senses that I am admiring him.

He reaches out and takes my hand, slowly caressing it. I am too damn easy and I don't even care. This heavy dose of adoration served up with Italian champagne is intoxicating. I can feel my body leaning into him as we speak.

We share stories about our weekends. I omit the dramatic events from Malibu but share the story of the Princess high tea in great detail as it seems to get funnier each time I recall the bizarre afternoon. James in turn tells me about a fight last Friday with an artist over a story that culminated in him setting fire to one of his painting in the building's underground parking garage. The entire building, all forty-six floors, had to be evacuated."

"Did you pull his story?"

"No actually his stunt is probably going to push him to the front cover."

"Of course it will," I smirk. "The squeaky wheel gets all the attention, right?"

"Especially in the art world where often times cleverness is more highly regarded than talent. Case in point is the British artist Banksy, who was recently chosen by Time Magazine as one of the most influential artists of the year. He is a gorilla street artist who gets attention by being clever with his graffiti. I find it all rather boring."

"Yes, I have read about him over the last few years. I have to admit though that I loved it when he went into major museums and just hung up one of his paintings. Can you imagine that?" I shake my head and laugh. "He even did it in MOMA and at the Met."

"Yes, and when he did it at the British Museum in London they took it down and immediately put it in their permanent collection. That was very clever on their part too."

Just as lunch is winding up James asks me about my plans for the weekend. "You know I was going to check your upcoming schedule so we could plan our Santa Barbara getaway, but I just can't wait to be with you. Can you join me this Saturday? We would be back by Sunday evening."

He takes my hand again and squeezes it gently. I feel the heat run over me as I look up at him, his plea running through my head again.

_I just can't wait to be with you. _

His look is so intense. Flustered I look back down at the table. _Wow_, he is even more into me than I realized. I briefly reflect on my conversation with Rose about James.

"Yes," I say softly.

I can see the relief wash over him, and I am surprised to see that he was very uncertain as to what my reaction was going to be. But now he looks incredibly happy, and he reaches down and grabs an unmarked black shopping bag and presents it to me.

"I had hoped you would say yes, and so I picked this up for you. It's for you to wear…hopefully this weekend." His eyes are sparkling. I half lift the gift box out of the bag to examine it and see that it is from the luxury lingerie store La Perla. _Oh my._

I look up at him with a wicked grin. "La Perla, so I see you got me some workout clothes. How thoughtful of you."

"Well, I wouldn't categorize what is in that box as clothes…and as for a workout, well, that remains to be seen."

"Indeed." I whisper. "Well, I will enjoy trying on whatever is in here for you-your very own fashion show."

"Oh, if only it were Saturday now!" he moans, as we rise from our table to leave the restaurant. As we walk out he gives me the details of when he will pick me up and what I may want to bring.

When the valet runs off to get my car I turn and face James and surprise him by grabbing the labels of his sports jacket and kissing him sweetly on the lips.

"Thank you for lunch and my gift."

I am still holding onto him, and he sweeps his arms around me, pulling me tightly against him before his lips meet mine. He moans, his lips parting, and he kisses me deeply. I am a little stunned as it is the middle of the day at a busy restaurant, but in that moment he doesn't seem to care about any of that. He just wants me, and I can feel it in every molecule of my body as I pull away, giving him one last smile before I climb into my car.

As I drive off I realize that Saturday is only three days away…so soon. Is it too soon?

.

On the way back to the gallery Jasper calls. "Hey, Bella," he drawls as I pick up the phone.

"Hi Jasper, what's up?"

"I'm just calling to thank you for your advice yesterday. It was spot-on, and I had the best night with Alice."

"Ahhhh. I'm so glad to hear that." He sounds so happy.

"You know I love that girl, Bella. I love her so much, and I always want to make her happy."

"You are making her happy, Jasper. You two seem like you are meant for each other."

"I know," he agrees. "She's my girl."

While he has me on the phone he asks if I will be Alice and his special guest at a big fundraiser his parents throw every year for The Children's Hospital. The event is two weeks from Saturday at their home in San Marino, and I happily agree to go with them.

He warns me, as only a man can, that it is formal, and I may want to wear something fancy. I smile at his simplicity realizing that at least I have two weeks to figure out what in the hell I'm going to wear to such an event.

..~*~..

Before I leave for my writer's group that evening I fire up my little ink-jet printer and watch it slowly spit out the pages of Edward's book. When it finally completes its task, I gather up the pages and tuck it into a large envelope for my teacher. I've already promised him a copy, so I figure there is no time like the present. I am still in the honeymoon phase of the project and have yet to receive harsh criticism. Of course I feel valid in discounting whatever psycho Victoria had said. So I am looking forward to having him read it.

The group members that evening share their stories one by one, and when it is my turn I again explain that I have been focused on my book project. Since the book is now complete, I will be focusing on my personal work again and should have something to share by next week. It soon becomes clear that wasn't the best strategy, because now they are all demanding that I read an excerpt from Edward's book.

I repeatedly resist until my teacher Paul hands me the envelope with my manuscript and puts his foot down.

"Damn it, Bella, just read the intro and get over it."

"What is the title of the book?" asks Sarah, the fat-bottomed girl who thinks she is Charlotte Bronte reincarnated.

"Unspoken Truths," I reply, watching them nod their heads in unified support.

My fingers nervously tighten on the pages, but I remind myself that I need to step up to the plate and be proud of the work I have done. So I start by explaining what I am about to read.

"Most of the book is a biography, and there is a section where a number of influential people talk about Masen and his work. I did have more latitude to be creative in the intro, and I took that to an extreme. That is what I will read to you now, so here goes. I clear my throat and straighten up before I begin to read aloud.

_Introduction: Unspoken Truths_

_An artist can make love to a canvas with abandon but be revealed as a fickle lover in the harsh light of review. These rogues, mock Cezannes and faux Miros, move from canvas to canvas, searching and never finding. But in today's bloodied battlefield of art school graduates and trendsetting graffiti-bound urban warriors, our young soldier stands alone. _

_He paints from hidden places, bowed in reverence to the emotional silence and solitude of his studio-a searing contrast to the deafening noise and visual assault of his alternate universe-the outside world. He lingers his brushes in dark places edged with light where a sonic boom of vermillion becomes a whisper, an assault of chartreuse becomes an embrace. Fame, his seductive mistress, shadows and taunts him as he continues to paint his way down the jagged path._

_Masen the artist, always brings his lovers home. His passion is ground into the pigment and deftly applied, layer upon layer, the final result the freeing of the secret you have always held locked in your heart…a work of art so heady and deep that if you fall into it, you will never stop your descent. _

_These are the unspoken truths of Edward Masen's work: emotion is art, and his art is emotion born of a great brilliance and veracity._

_This is his story._

_.  
_

Everyone is silent as I stuff the pages back into the envelope. I clear my throat waiting for someone, anyone to say something.

"Wow," finally responds Dylan. "That is incredibly cool." But I immediately disregard his opinion because I've always known that he has a thing for me. I'm still trying to avoid speculation as to why he knows my schedule better than I do.

"I don't get it," William states honestly. "Is it a poem or an intro? It's way too flowery for me."

"It's really different," Erika immediately states. "I've never heard an artist described quite like that. But it evokes so much passion that now I want to see and experience his work. I want to learn more about him. It would make me keep reading." I listen to her review carefully because is a really talented writer and usually has a thoughtful approach to critiques.

When she is done speaking I smile at her. "They really wanted me to have a different type of approach with this project. That's why they used me instead of an experienced writer who works in this genre."

"You don't think it's indulgent?" William challenges, turning towards Erika.

"Oh, I didn't say that." Erika replies. "Sure it's indulgent, but you say that like it's a bad thing."

Our noble leader Paul laughs quietly.

"We are talking about art," Erika insists. "It seems the perfect subject to wax poetic about. After all, isn't poetry the written word's counter part to abstract art? He's an abstract artist."

"That's a good point," agrees Dylan. "I'm curious…what does the artist think of it?"

I'm suddenly embarrassed to admit the truth. "He hasn't read it yet."

William whistles, and Paul gives him a dirty look.

"Really?" questions Leslie. "Boy I'd like to watch his reaction when he does."

"Why hasn't he read it?" asks Susan who sits in the corner and normally doesn't say much.

I pause for a moment trying to construct an excuse that sounds plausible, but I come up empty handed. All I can blurt out is "it's complicated."

"It sounds like you are in love with him," fat bottom Sarah taunts me, "or at least in love with his work."

My mind starts spinning. In love with Edward? In love with his work? The later is a given…I do love his work. I did before I started the book, and I do even more now. I couldn't have put the two hundred percent I put into this project unless I had felt as strongly as I did. But as for loving him, just the idea of it makes me panic. A heavy ache grows in my chest. I have made it my business not to fall in love with anyone, certainly not a tortured artist along the lines of Edward. It just makes me more resolute that I have to get a grip on my complicated feelings for him. Paul suddenly snaps me out of my pondering.

"Yes, but it can be completely right to be in love with what you are writing about," our teacher Paul confirms.

And despite the fact that I can talk my way out of having feelings for Edward, the knowing look Paul gives me lingers with me all the way home.

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	26. Chapter 26  Fallen Soldier

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

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**And now… for all you James lovers-enjoy. For all you Jame's haters-you've been warned...**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Twenty-Six / Fallen Soldier**

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Alice is curled up on the couch watching the Style channel when I finally get home.

"Hey, Bella, how was your writers' group tonight?" She looks so content. What a contrast to a couple of nights ago.

"Well, it was interesting. They made me read the intro to the book, and I guess you could say that it brought up a lot of stuff for me."

"Didn't they like it?"

"It's not that, there were mixed reviews, which I expected. The intro is pretty wild. It was more that it was suggested that it revealed feelings I have for Edward."

Alice sits up a little straighter. "Oh, thoooose feelings. I can imagine."

"And all it did was stir things up for me again, the anger, the passion, the admiration, the disgust, the want…"

"Quite a combination of emotions, my friend."

"Yes, and now he's gone…maybe just for now…maybe forever, from my life. So now I may never get this stuff sorted out."

I mope into the kitchen and pour a glass of wine for the two of us. When I hand Alice her glass I decide to change the subject.

"I got a call from Mr. Jasper today."

A warm smile lights up Alice's face. "Yeah, he told me he called to thank you. And while we are on that subject, I would like to thank you as well. Your guidance with Jasper was much appreciated. I think last night was the best night of my life. I'm still floating."

"That good, huh?" I laugh.

"You know it wasn't the stuff, the gorgeous flowers and the perfect table at Firefly-it was the things he said to me. He told me that he loves every part of me, and he wants me to be honest with him with my emotions. If I am unhappy or dark so be it. We can work anything out together."

She lays her head back on the pillow, facing the ceiling. "You know, Bella, I never thought I would find my soul mate, the guy that I was destined to be with. But Jasper has changed all that for me. I really think he is my soul mate."

"And I think he feels the same about you, Alice."

"Last night when we made love it felt like the beginning but even better…all that passion with our big love layered onto it. It was glorious. When he pushed inside of me, he did it so slowly that by the time he had filled me I was completely undone. I came just moments later and it was shattering. Have you ever been so overwhelmed by the passion that you cried when you made love?"

I shake my head. "It sounds pretty damn amazing."

"Oh Bella, you have to experience that at least once in your life. I could have died at that moment and been satisfied. I was completely fulfilled and content. But it didn't stop then…he just kept satisfying me. I felt so worshipped."

"Every woman's fantasy," I concur. "I hope you know how lucky you are, Alice."

"I do, I do."

We fall back into a comfortable silence, and I get up to find the leftovers I am counting on for dinner. Alice notices the black bag next to my purse. "Did you go shopping today?"

"No, actually, that is a gift from James. I haven't opened it yet but it's from La Perla."

Alice's eyes open wide. "Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!"

I bring it over to the couch and gently lift the lid off the box. As I part the tissue, Alice moans. An exquisite midnight blue bra and matching panty are revealed. I pick the bra up to examine before handing it to Alice to do the same. The delicate embroidery is elegantly done on a sheer netting in a contemporary swirl design. It looks exactly like something James would pick out. After looking at the tag, I am impressed to see that he guessed my size perfectly.

I notice there is something else in the box, and I lift out a pale pink satin chemise gown. It slides between my fingers as soft as butter, and it appears to be floor-length and cut to gently hug the body. There are very thin straps, and the fabric is cut wide at the bottom around the legs. It looks very 1940s Greta Garbo. _Wow._

"Is this for a special occasion?" Alice asks, wonder in her eyes.

"He's taking me to Santa Barbara this weekend," I confirm. "He said he wanted to take me somewhere special to make love to me."

"Really?" Alice's brow furrows. "I didn't think you were that into him."

I put the lingerie back in the box and set it on the coffee table. "I know, it's really weird because I love the attention he gives me. I mean this guy really seems to adore me, but honestly, I don't have that special spark with him. Rose thinks I should keep seeing him to get my mind off Edward. And I wonder, maybe those feelings will come in time with James.

Alice gives me a look that says she is not convinced that my feelings will change enough to warrant sleeping with the guy. "I think you are selling yourself short, Bella."

"Well, if anything, after this weekend I should have a pretty good idea where things stand."

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I try to focus on work the next couple of days so that my apprehension for the Santa Barbara trip doesn't overtake me. By Saturday morning I'm still nervous, but I'm actually starting to look forward to getting away. When James rings our doorbell at ten a.m. sharp I pull open the door to see him in pressed jeans, a navy sweater that he's casually pushed up his arms and a huge smile on his face. He pulls me into his arms for a hug, and I bring him inside to meet Alice while I gather up my things.

He is friendly with Alice, and I can tell she is impressed with him. He is certainly classier than anyone she has ever seen me date. We say our goodbyes, and he takes the overnight bag out of my hand before we head down the stairs towards his BMW. He pushes the button to open the sunroof and turns on the stereo as we pull onto the road.

"So, did you bring your gift from our lunch?" he asks while giving me a sideways glance.

"Bring it? I'm wearing it…well, at least part of it. It's so beautiful, James."

He moans softly as his eyes darken. "I can't wait to see, baby."

"I can't wait to show you," I tease. "How did you know my exact size?"

"I pay more attention to you than you realize."

"Really, and when did that start?" I look over at him and realize that he is gripping the steering wheel rather tightly.

"From the moment I met you, Bella." He lowers his right hand from the steering wheel, picks up my hand, and presses it to his lips. His kiss is gentle but I can feel the longing behind it.

I have to wonder if he is like this with every woman he dates. We don't have any mutual friends that can help shed light on his past for me. So for now I get to imagine that I am the single object of such adoration.

Our conversation is easy and the drive goes quickly. By eleven-fifteen we are approaching Montecito where James wants to show me several galleries before we stop for lunch.

Montecito is the Beverly Hills of Santa Barbara-the epicenter of excessive wealth for the area. But unlike Beverly Hills, Montecito is understated and has a casual, comfortable elegance with sprawling Mediterranean homes surrounded by towering Eucalyptus and Oak trees. Most streets are called roads and have no sidewalks, just property with stables and rambling paths along the local creek. Oprah may live here, but you will never see buses with tours of the celebrity homes rolling along. This is where the famous and wealthy live if they want to be away from all that Hollywood represents.

We park on Coast Village Road and enter the Easton Gallery. James knows the owner, and he introduces me before we take in the art. The focus of this gallery appears to be locally-inspired landscapes, and although that isn't my favorite genre, there is some truly beautiful work on the walls. They talk business for a few minutes while I study the work.

Next we head over to the Dorion Gallery which features abstract expressionism. The main exhibit features an artist I assume is strongly influenced by Georgia O'Keefe. The paintings have light colors blending and waving together in a sensual way. The work in the back of the gallery of another artist is a contrast in its angry dark expression. The wide dripping strokes of black cutting across the canvas remind me for a moment of my name scrawled across Edward's paintings. I push the image out of my mind and walk back to the front with the sexy flowers and swirls of color.

Cava, where we head for lunch, is a contemporary Latin restaurant, and we sit outside on the patio. We order roasted tortilla soup, an assortment of tapas, and mojitos. The sun is burning through the typical Santa Barbara overcast, and I'm starting to feel the benefit of getting out of the city. James looks particularly relaxed as well, and he holds my hand through much of the meal. I wonder if he considers me his girlfriend but I shake off that idea. I mean, we haven't even slept together yet-although that status will certainly change before the day ends. The mojito buzz is starting to loosen me up nicely, and for a moment I allow myself to imagine him in bed and what he will be like. I want to see this cool contained man completely undone. I'm thinking I'd like him to fuck me hard, until we are both completely spent. When we are offered expressos I decline, hoping we get to the hotel soon. Clearly it's been too long since I've done the wild thing.

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Our reservations are at the Biltmore, a Four Season landmark hotel resting on the beachfront of prime Santa Barbara real estate. Like almost everything else in Santa Barbara it is classically Spanish architecture with whitewashed walls, terracotta adobe roofs and arched windows and doorways. The structure is low and spread across the sprawling property surrounded by rolling lawns edged with palm trees. Clusters of indigenous wildflowers bring spots of hot color to the verdant blanket of green. After check-in, our bellman in his spotless uniform rolls us to our deluxe cottage perched on the edge of the grounds. I am stunned as we pass through the carved wooden door into the softly lit room filled with antiques and upholstered couches circling the fireplace. This must be the living room. There is a large four-poster bed in the adjoining bedroom. I walk through and peek into another doorway which leads to a grand bathroom. Who would believe a bathroom could be this spectacular? It is a symphony of marble and tile, with a large picture window above the massive Jacuzzi tub overlooking the lushly landscaped private patio.

"Can we live here?" I ask James once he finishes tipping the bellman.

"Anything for you, baby," he teases, pulling me into an embrace. His lips are hot and searching. I can feel all the anticipation in his body, and there is no question how much he wants me. He is kissing me along my neck and lightly nibbling my earlobe when his cell phone starts ringing. We try to ignore it but it is unrelenting, the ringing starting again after one cycle has concluded.

He finally steps back and checks the screen to see who is intruding on our moment. His scowls and shoves the phone back in his pocket.

He reaches up and strokes my cheek tenderly, and then steps away to open the bottle of champagne already chilling on the bar. As he deftly works to open it he looks at me expectantly.

"Bella, I'm so sorry but I'm going to have to take this call or they are going to bug me all weekend. It will take fifteen minutes, twenty tops. Why don't you sit down and relax with some champagne, and I'll be done before you know it."

I smile at him. This is a small price to pay for all the time we still have ahead of us this weekend.

"Of course," I say quietly. "I brought a book with me. Why don't I sit out on the patio and read. I take a long sip of my champagne and he tops my glass before kissing my cheek. I pull my book out of my overnight bag and head out to the patio, stretching out on the plush chaise that faces the fountain.

I try to focus on reading as I sip my champagne but it is difficult. My eyes wander over the private patio cloaked in densely dappled light. The soothing trickle of the fountain and the breeze brushing over me just add to my sense of well being. This is damn well close to paradise.

Just when I finally am able to focus on my book James strolls out to join me, evidentially finished with his business. I scoot my legs to the side as he lowers himself, sitting down on the edge of my chaise lounge.

"What are you reading?"

"_Bel Ami_. I tried to read it in college but lost interest. I thought I would give it another go."

"I read it years ago. Wasn't it originally published in the late 1800s?"

I nod after opening up the book to confirm the publication dates.

"Remind me what it is about."

"Oh, this decadent fellow George Duroy is a journalist and works his way up in French society by bedding various women who help him move up the social ladder. He's a real philanderer."

I look over at James and his expression is off. I can't tell if he is still distracted from his phone call or troubled by something I have said.

He takes the book out of my hands and puts it on the side table. "Well, I can think of better uses of your time now that I am here." My legs are bent but my flowing skirt is pulled down over my knees. He reaches out and begins to stroke my calves very slowly.

"It is so beautiful here," I comment, my eyes roaming over the patio.

"Yes, so beautiful," he murmurs looking at me as he pushes my skirt back a few inches, and his warm hands start moving up over my knees and back down. All the while he is staring at me intently.

"Your skin is so soft, baby," he murmurs. He takes a long sip of champagne and then kisses my knee gently, his hands still moving. He rises and swings his right leg over the chaise and sits back down now straddling the lounge. My heart accelerates as I realize that he appears ready to play.

"I remember the first time I saw you, Bella."

"At ArtHouse. I remember too."

He slides my skirt back even further so now most of my thighs are exposed. He sighs and runs each hand up and down the outside of my thighs.

"You have the most beautiful legs. I want them wrapped around me."

_Good God, he certainly has a direct approach._

He reaches up and removes his glasses and carefully sets them on the side table. His blue gray eyes burn into me, and he reaches out and parts my thighs and lifts what is left of my skirt away from my body.

"I remember that knit dress you were wearing. It hugged every curve, God, I wanted you then. I knew I had to have you."

I feel his hands slide down the insides of my thighs then over my hips until his hands are cupping my ass. He pulls me towards him which now pushes my skirt up around my waist. My La Perla panties are completely revealed.

"Yes, that color is perfect against your gorgeous pale skin. Open your blouse, baby. I want to see the rest."

There are only a few buttons so within seconds my shirt is pulled open revealing the midnight blue bra. My nipples are hard and pushing against the delicate netting. I sit up for a moment, and he reaches out and cups my breasts in his hands while leaning forward to kiss me. He moans into my mouth while flicking my nipples with his thumbs. When we part, I fall back onto the chaise even more aroused.

He runs his hands over the midnight blue panties and groans. "My gift looks even better on you than I imagined." His fingers slide down between my legs and press against my center, and I moan tilting my head back against the cushion. He lifts my left ankle and runs kisses along my instep before perching it on his left shoulder. From this angle he is able to leave a trail of kisses along the inside of my leg from my ankle, toward my knee and beyond. When he gets to the top of my thighs he kisses me between my legs and then gently bites at the panties, tugging the delicate lace away from me with his teeth. My wetness surges with his hot breath on me as he pulls.

"Can I help you with that?" I shimmy the panties off my hips and far enough down my thighs that I can pull my legs out of them one at a time. When I am done he spreads my legs back out so that I am naked before him. He licks his lips slowly, his hooded eyes revealing the most sultry of looks.

"James," I moan huskily. "Are you going to fuck me or just tease me?"

"In due time baby-no reason to rush this."

He reaches down and runs his fingers across me, and I am so aroused and sensitive that I buck from the contact. He slips a finger inside of me.

"You're already so wet…so ready."

"Yes," I whisper. As I look down at him I notice his erection straining tightly against his pants. "It looks as if you are ready as well."

He rocks his hips forward but then moans, "Yes, but first things first." He removes his finger and then lifts it to his lips slowly rolling it into his mouth. "So sweet but, I want more than just a taste, baby."

This time he works his kisses down my other thigh until his face is positioned between my legs, and I feel his mouth move across me. His tongue, which is apparently well experienced in this regard, swirls, flicks, and rubs against me with a perfect blend of hot pressure and feather light touches. All the tension surging through me forces my legs even further apart. I groan and weave my fingers into his hair pulling him closer.

"James," I moan, and he slides one hand up my body and begins to squeeze my breast and pull gently on my nipple while never missing a beat with his tongue lapping against me. "Oh my God."

He lifts up for a moment and looks me in the eye. "Is this good for you, baby? Tell me-I want to hear."

"So fucking good," I pant because he is pushing me over the edge far faster than I thought possible. My hips are rocking now as his magic tongue works across and in me. I am unraveling by his hot mouth and able hands so that all the pampering, the adoration, the atmosphere, the technique, roll up together into a mythical force that pushes me over the cliff. As the waves of orgasm tear through me, I thrash against the chaise and moan and call out his name so loud that I imagine that the gardeners working nearby and the birds in the trees all bow their heads in reverence.

Mr. Alistar is even more clever than I expected because the result of such an orgasm is complete surrender. I am now loose as jelly, and so blissful that he could ask me almost anything of a sexual nature, and I would probably do it.

So as I try to catch my breath and calm my heaving chest it comes as no surprise when James lifts himself onto his knees and undoes his slacks. I watch him surreptitiously because I don't want to give away how curious I am about how this will go. He lowers his slacks and boxers enough to pull his engorged cock free, and he strokes it slowly while his eyes bore into me.

"Look what I have here," as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom.

"You thought of everything." I smile at him.

As he rolls on the condom he pauses and looks down at the chaise-evidentially calculating whether it is wise to continue on such a confined surface. He then looks towards our room with its large comfortable bed just inside the French doors. .

"Why don't we move inside baby…there's much more room to play in there."

I nod and wait for him to move first. He pushes himself back a bit to get past my legs and step off the chaise but suddenly loses his balance. Stunned, I watch as he starts to fall sideways. In a tragic slow motion our legs tangle as I try to reach up for him, but he slips out of my grasp and crashes to the ground landing on his side.

"Fuck, James!" I twist so that I am turned towards him. "Are you okay?" I breathe a sigh of relief that he didn't fall far before hitting the ground. My next inclination is to laugh because he looks so ridiculous twisted in this ridiculous pose with his pants bunched around his knees and his raging hard-on still angling towards me like a heat-seeking missile.

But as soon as I see his expression and the fear in his eyes, I am instantly sobered, and I quickly slide off the chaise to his side. He is panting and moaning, but not in a good way.

"What is it, James? Are you okay?"

"My back," he growls between gritted teeth. "I think I've thrown my back out."

"Oh no," I groan sympathetically. My dad had a bad back and seemed to throw it out about once a year, and when he did he was completely incapacitated. "Have you thrown your back out before?"

He nods, still gritting his teeth, and now his eyes are wedged shut. Not a good sign…perhaps he has a messed up back too. I lean over and run my fingers through his hair. "What can I do, James? Can I help you up?"

I watch him strain. He seems to be testing himself to see if he can lift up on his elbow but he isn't able to. Things are looking worse by the minute.

"Look, I'm going to call for help, okay? I will be back in a minute."

"No wait!" he barks as his eyes move down to his crotch.

"Oh yeah, here let me help you." I stand over him and awkwardly try to shimmy up his pants. It takes a lot of effort, but I finally get them over his hips so I remove the condom, tuck in his now semi-flaccid cock and fasten up his pants. "Okay, I'm going to get help now, okay?"

He looks up at me and nods. I can see so much anger and frustration in his face. I feel horrible for him. It must be a nightmare to suddenly lose all mobility and be racked with pain when you were only moments away from supreme pleasure. I call the front desk from inside and quickly explain that my "friend" has fallen on the patio outside our suite, and I need a doctor and a couple of guys to help me lift him immediately. The front desk manager assures me that two bellman will be there in a minute, and they are phoning the doctor they have on-call for the hotel guests as we speak. I realize that their super efficiency may have something to do with a fear of litigation. The words _falling on their property_ stirs up the fear of anyone in hotel management. Of course, far be it from me to explain that the only reason he fell was not due to a wet floor or irregular floor tile but because he was fucking his date on furniture clearly not designed for such shenanigans.

When the fresh-faced college boys in their pressed Biltmore uniforms show up we agree collectively to move James to the bed. We scurry to the patio, and when they attempt to lift him I notice that the cute one named David is standing on my La Perla panties which had dropped to the ground earlier. As soon as he moves, I quickly reach down, scoop them up, and deposit them into my purse.

James is cursing a lot and not being a very pleasant patient. Not that I can blame him. I at least had an exquisite orgasm before he took a nosedive…he, on the other hand, really got short changed on this deal. The doctor soon arrives and is able to give James some muscle relaxants and painkillers to hold him over until he can see his doctor.

When everyone has left I sit down on the chair near the bedroom fireplace and face him. He is still and staring straight up to the ceiling.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No."

"I'm so sorry about your back. I wish I could do something."

Silence.

"I think I am going to need to get home." He finally offers up.

"Are you sure you can handle the car ride? I'm happy to take care of you here."

"I don't want that. This is humiliating enough without you having to take care of me."

"Well, I don't see it that way. It's not your fault you threw your back out." An idea occurs to me. "Are you mad at me? If my legs hadn't been in the way, you probably wouldn't have fallen."

He tries to smile at me through his grimace and then reaches out to me. I walk over and take his hand.

"No, I'm not mad at you, Bella, just the situation. I'm just can't believe this happened and screwed up our weekend."

"Well, can I take a rain check?"

"Of course."

"Besides, I really need to get to my acupuncturist and start physical therapy immediately because I have a very important meeting in New York on Friday that I have to be at. The sooner I start treatment, the sooner I'll be up and about."

So when the pills kick in I call the front desk and they bring a wheel chair to the suite to help load James into his car. I sit for a moment familiarizing myself with the dashboard before pulling out of the driveway_. That's the shortest hotel stay I've ever had,_ I think as I hit the gas.

I turn on the radio on a classical music station to drown out the heavy silence in the car. James has his eyes closed, but instead of sleeping it looks like he is just trying to deal with the pain. His face looks very tense.

I can't help but wonder as the minutes pass what this experience means for us moving forward. If feels as something has shifted, and I'm not sure what. But I consider the possibility that James has been a flirty fantasy not based in any kind of reality. It seems selfish or shallow, but after enjoying being the focus of his powerful alpha presence-watching him crumble and be weak takes a lot of the fun out of the equation. Perhaps fate presented me the simple answer to my uncertainty about being involved with James.

Because no matter what, every relationship is a package deal. You have to take the pretension and bad back with adoring James, the simpleton mindset with dependable Jacob, and the mercurial temperament with brilliant Edward. If there isn't something solid that a relationship has been built on, like a steel armature reinforcing the core of a sculpture, the thing will crumble the first time a hard wind blows.

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**Well, I bet you didn't think Santa Barbara would go quite like that… **

**Everyone is asking about Edward so I thought you'd like to know that he will be contacting Bella next chapter. **

**Thanks so much for reading Work of Art. I am honored to be on your alert and favorite story lists and enjoy reading your reviews more than you know.**

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	27. Chapter 27  The Bright Light

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

**Thank you to my beta TwilightZoner.**

_**You guys have been so great and supportive of this story and I want to thank you for your kind words.  
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**Work of Art / Chapter Twenty-Seven / The Bright Light**

_I had reservations about making art a business, but I got over it._ -Mary Boone, Gallery Owner and Collector

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I am pissed and there is no wonder why. My magical Santa Barbara weekend is a comedy of errors culminating in my injured date insisting on dropping me off on the curb in front of my apartment. _What the hell?_ I should have at the very least been able to drive him home, but he became belligerent again at the idea of my trying to take care of him. I know he is short tempered because of the pain…_but really?_ As I stand and watch he hobbles around the car to the driver seat, painfully lowers himself inside the car, and glides off towards Sunset Blvd.

I climb the stairs very slowly. My carry-on bag hangs low on my shoulder-now so heavy it's seemingly full of rocks. It's still a bit early to surrender the evening completely and go to bed. Instead, I decide a nap is on the top of my agenda as I open up my front door.

My un-welcome committee can hardly be blamed for the graphic exhibition since they thought I wasn't returning until Sunday evening. But regardless, it is unsettling to see Alice perched on the edge of the dining room table naked-her legs wrapped around Jasper's waist while she lays back spread out on the table like a scrumptious party platter.

I'll never be able to eat a meal at that table again.

Her back is arched in such a way that her breasts are within Jasper's reach proving that her years of Pilates have paid off. Even from a distance his mouth sucking her breast is pretty damn erotic.

Jasper meanwhile is also a multi-tasker, and I can't help but notice that he has a really nice ass as he slams into her repeatedly while they talk dirty talk to each other. I hear a jumble of proclamations: _huge cock, so tight and wet, so hard, fuck me baby, harder…yes!_ They are both so good looking and acrobatic that this could surely rival any porn film. The added bonus is that their wild passion for each other is authentic.

I'm not even sure if they notice me as I sigh, quietly pass them and head to my bedroom. As I gently close my door, strip off my clothes, and pull on an old T-shirt, I feel a Shirley Temple pout coming on. _Ooooo I want that,_ I whine to myself, wishing I had a devoted boyfriend who could fuck me without falling over. I crawl across my bed and collapse. Fortunately, sleep comes quickly, blacking out the performance now in its second act in the front room.

..~*~..

On the way to work Monday morning I realize I'm feeling untethered. I am done with the book project that has all but consumed me. And although it is a huge relief to be finished, I'm also hit with a bit of the let-down blues. The feeling reminds me of when I was in my high school play. We rehearsed and worked for months-some days it was all I thought about-and the morning after closing night I didn't have a clue what to do with myself. It is always grand to have something to look forward to.

I also have no idea what to think about James, or at this point Edward-with whom I have had no contact. It looks like I need to find a new hobby or something because I think I was getting a bit hooked on the drama.

Half way through lunch James finally calls to touch base. He lets me know that he was too completely out of it to call yesterday, but after the doctor and acupuncturist appointments this morning he is now making progress. It looks like he will be able to go to New York on Thursday after all. He sounds relieved, but his disappointment with our weekend still lingers. He assures me that he is planning another getaway for us that will more than make up for the Santa Barbara fiasco.

The one thing I know for sure as I hang up is that there will be no more chaise lounge sex no matter where we go. Frankly, I have to admit to myself that there probably shouldn't be any sex at all considering how my true feelings for James have become clearer.

That afternoon Emmett lets me know that Esme would like to have us over for lunch on Thursday and then she can shoot my portrait for the book cover. I give him a hug and thank him for making the arrangements. It calms me knowing that Esme will make me comfortable in a situation that would normally make me anxious. I've never liked having my picture taken.

The next few days move slowly with hours in the print shop assisting Jacob laying down the colors for Edward's print. A large area of the lightest yellow is printed which allows other colors to intentionally bleed through. A blazing dark red is screened next. There are slivers of the color lying along the edges-a trail of lips looking for someone to kiss. I realize that just working on Edward's art does funny things to my mind. I run my fingers along the red line cutting through the art dividing the dark area from the light.

I refuse to actually execute the screen work because I still can't do it without imagining Edward pressed behind me and kissing my neck. Instead, I load and unload the drying racks, my arms aching from the repetitive motion. Meanwhile, Jacob keeps me entertained with the latest stories involving his buddies I met at the sports bar.

..~*~..

On Thursday Emmett and I head up Beachwood Canyon to his parents' place. Like many hillside homes it is built on levels tucked into the mountain. Although of a Richard Neutra design and decidedly modern, their house still feels welcoming. There are large vases of flowers throughout, soft music on the stereo, and the glass doors are wide open bringing the spectacular view of the city inside.

Esme comes out of the kitchen to give me a warm hug, her wavy auburn hair falling around her shoulders and framing her lovely face. She is dressed simply in fitted jeans tucked into boots and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The only embellishments are a long amber and crystal necklace and a wide antique silver cuff bracelet. She always looks polished, but that woman could look elegant in shorts and flip flops.

I marvel as I watch Esme. She is the epitome of what I would want to be like in thirty years. She loves being a photographer and her work is highly regarded; she has a devoted, brilliant and handsome husband; her marriage has not just lasted thirty years, but they are still very much in love; she has raised a wonderful son who is devoted to her as well; she has fun, dynamic girlfriends; she has kept her beauty without resorting to plastic surgery; she maintains a beautiful home; and they travel frequently. Does it get any better than that?

The plan is to have lunch first, and Esme brings out beautiful salads of greens and chopped roasted vegetables topped with grilled shrimp and a lemon vinaigrette dressing. Luckily as we sit down to eat, Emmett doesn't ask about my weekend in Santa Barbara in front of Esme, as I don't want to have to explain that James threw out his back and the weekend was cut short. I'm sure they could imagine what led to him throwing his back out, and at this point the whole thing is humiliating.

I know that Emmett and Ted are trying to plan a vacation so instead I ask Emmett about some of the trips he took with his parents over the years. Emmett tells the story about riding an elephant in Bali, and I can only imagine what a thrill that must have been for a boy that loves animals.

"Hey mom, remember Japan? I think I was going to lose it if I had been dragged to one more temple or rock garden."

"Yes, but you managed to have your fun. Remember the incident in the airport?"

Emmett turns red and laughs. "Oh, yeah!"

"What?" I ask, trying to imagine what Emmett could have done in an airport.

"Well, we were checking in, and it was all very complicated trying to figure out the signs and not knowing the language. It is a lot more English friendly now than it was back then," Esme explains. "So, suddenly I realize that Emmett was missing. How old were you then, Em?"

"Nine." He smiles knowing what is coming.

"So naturally we panic, and I'm running around while Carlisle is informing security. And suddenly I hear gasps and loud chattering everywhere, and I look up and see that all the announcement boards have been cleared except for one message trailing across the screen…_Emmett was here. Emmett was here. Emmett was here_."

"Oh no, he didn't!"

"Oh yes, he did!" Esme laughs. "He had noticed the main computer behind the check in and had snuck over and started playing with it. About then he finally wanders back over to us having no idea what he had just done, almost shutting down their whole system. It's funny now, but when it happened we were dragged into security and almost missed our flight home."

"You bad boy, Emmett!" I admonish him.

"Yeah, but you know you like me that way, girl!"

_Yes, I do_, I think. _Yes, I do._

Emmett decides to give us privacy for the portrait sitting which is probably a good idea since if he stays I may have trouble keeping a straight face. Esme has to head into town after the shoot anyway, so she offers to drive me back to the gallery on the way.

Her studio, a large room with high ceilings, is on the bottom level of the house. Like most of the house, the studio has a wall of glass facing the view, but there are black-out blinds she can draw if she needs to block out the light.

The background for the shot, a huge sheet of blank canvas that has been washed repeatedly with shades of translucent gray paint creating a rich layered depth is already draped behind where I'll sit. Facing the stool for the subject there are lights on stands that have nylon boxes of translucent white attached to their faces. When she turns them on the light is milky soft.

Esme turns on the stereo, all the way talking to me in her soothing voice. She asks me about the book project and what has been happening in the gallery while she checks her camera and the strobe flashes of the lights. I'm not surprised to note that she isn't working digitally, but still shoots film.

She finally leads me over the stool, and after I sit down she pulls a black stand in front of me that I can lean my elbows on. She talks me through some particulars like sitting up straight, flattering angles on the face, and the best way to lean into the stand. She then takes a brush and moves it through my long hair, sweeping some forward and pushing some back, finally brushing her fingers along my cheek.

"You are so lovely, Bella, you are going to make this so easy for me. I'm sure I can't take a bad picture of you."

_She's such a pro._

Once she starts shooting there is a flow where we try different expressions and poses, but it all feels natural. She doesn't so much direct me but show me, and the things she says while she works makes me smile so it isn't forced. She also takes plenty of pictures when I'm not expecting her to-like when I'm laughing, or just staring off to the side thinking she is still changing film. By the time she has finished shooting three or four dozen pictures, I am confident that there will be at least one that will work for the book. I marvel at how she made me feel relaxed and beautiful. Clearly that is part of her talent and why people come from great distances to work with her.

As she shuts down I ask about how she got interested in photography, and the conversation leads to her art school experience which is where she met Carlisle.

"Was it love at first sight when you met Carlisle?"

"Not exactly, but close. Well, you probably remember hearing that we met at art school."

"Yes, Art Center in Pasadena," I reply. Emmett took me to a show there once and told me that his parents had met there as students.

"Yes, I was a photography major and dating one of my classmates. We were always buried in the labs or shooting in the studios and rarely came out to see the light of day."

"So how did you meet Carlisle then?"

"Well, he was in the fine art program, but he also worked in the student store part time to help pay for his supplies. So when we would stumble out of the labs or the studio to buy film or printing paper, he would often help me, and I remember thinking he was so handsome and charming. He later told me that he usually couldn't stand the photographers because they were always stressed out and in a bad mood but I was always so kind."

"Kind?"

"Well, yes, he said he thought I was sexy and beautiful too, but I left that part out."

"Don't leave out the good parts!" I tease her.

"So we had an assignment during my fifth quarter to shoot a portrait of an artist in their environment, and I thought about him. I had seen his work in the student gallery, and I really liked it, and of course he was so handsome and charismatic so I knew he would be a great subject. I asked him one evening when I was buying supplies, and he agreed as long as I would agree to pose for him for a painting."

"My poor boyfriend Michael didn't stand a chance. I should have known at that point that I was setting off on a course that would change my entire life. I will never forget the day that I went to his place for our session. He was renting a large room at the top of this grand old house. He called it the tree house because it was surrounded by huge old oak trees. There were windows on all sides with the most beautiful light.

So we dragged all of my equipment up the three flights of stairs, and before I set up he shows me all the canvases he is working on, and I swear Bella I could feel myself fall in love with him as he talked about his work. He was so passionate-so sure of himself."

She smiles with a faraway look in her eyes as she remembers.

And as we talk we lose all sense of time and place we are so interested in each other, and before you know it we realize that the light has fallen and it is too late to shoot! So we just kept talking until I realized that I was late meeting up with Michael and some of our friends."

"What did you do?"

"I regretfully left but we agreed to keep my equipment there, and I would come back the next day."

"Did the same thing happen the next day?"

"No, I was very serious about my work. I knew it was my last chance to get his portrait done and get the assignment turned in on time. So as soon as I got there I set up and we did the session. I remember it was one of the best sessions I have ever done. He was so present and giving as a subject, and each shot we set up seemed better than the last. One part of the assignment was to shoot the artist actually at work. It was the last set up we did, and he took off his shirt because that is how he liked to paint, and let me tell you-I could barely focus my camera. It took everything I had not to jump on him, and I'm sure he sensed that. He gave me looks that would have melted the coldest heart."

After I had packed up my equipment, he opened up a bottle of wine and we sat on the floor and talked and talked. I was starting to get scared because the attraction, and the tension between us was incredible He finally put his cards on the table and asked about my boyfriend."

So I told him about Michael. We had been together for three years…even before Art Center. He was my first real boyfriend. And with that information I could feel Carlisle shutting down, and I thought it was probably for the best because I didn't need a lot of drama in my life as much as I liked him."

But when I went to say goodbye at the end of the evening, he gave me this hug…it was like really being held for the first time. And before he pulled away he told me that he wanted to kiss me more than anything but he knew he couldn't because of Michael."

So after that I avoided the student store. But when Michael saw the prints after I brought my graded boards home, he went off in a jealous rage. We had a huge fight even though I hadn't done anything with Carlise. But he must have been operating on instincts-like an animal he sensed that I was tempted by another male and he was threatened. There was always so much drama around that time, not just with us but all of our friends. Someone could have written a book about it…call it _Art School Confidential_ or something."

Anyway, Michael was never one to be upstaged, so he took care of things by sleeping with our neighbor. After I found out about it he begged and pleaded with me to forgive him, but I was done. As it was our relationship had run its course, so I was ready to leave him. And since I couldn't stop thinking about Carlisle, I had to wonder…how much could I have really been committed to Michael in my heart?"

So a couple of weeks later after the dust had started to settle I finally went to the student store and brought Carlisle prints from the shoot. He took a break, and we went to the student cafeteria and got coffee and looked at the work. He loved the images, and we talked like not a moment had passed since we had been together. I didn't tell him about Michael then, but he asked me if I was ready to pose for him, and we agreed I would come the following Saturday."

She suddenly looks at her watch. "Oh this story is going on way too long isn't it?"

"No! I protest, "I want to hear the rest!"

"So the whole week I am a bundle of anticipation, and when Saturday, arrives I can barely drive myself to his place. He sees that I am nervous, and I think he assumed it was about posing, so he gave me some wine while he prepared his easel and paints. And of course he isn't wearing his shirt because that's how he works-so the wine was even more necessary."

I laugh, feeling all the nervous tension for what they must have been going through.

"We had agreed ahead of time that I would be nude but only if it could be a pose where my front is covered. So he had arranged a way for me to stretch across some pillows so really only my ass was showing. He turned away when I took off my robe and positioned myself, but I remember when he came over to arrange my hair fanning across the pillow I almost passed out."

"Wait, that's the painting hanging in your bedroom, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's the one." She gives me a big smile.

"So he starts working, and he is completely into what he is doing. He doesn't even speak for a long time, but as we both get more comfortable we start to talk and we share stories about school and our current projects. Finally he asks about Michael, so I tell him about our break-up. "

"What did he say?"

"Nothing…at first there was dead silence, but then I look up and see he is gripping the sides of the canvas he's been working on. So I ask him what's wrong. And you know what he says?"

I shake my head.

"He says, _Nothing is wrong Esme, for the first time in a long time, everything is right._ He then walks over to me and sits on the floor right next to my pillows, and he reaches over and strokes my cheek. And that was it…that was the moment that my entire life changed. I sat up-not even caring that I was naked, and he pulled me into his lap and gave me the kiss I had waited for my entire life."

I hold my breath because her description is so vivid that I can feel their passion running through me. They had each found their soul mate.

"That was it. I stayed over that night and never left. Here it is thirty years later, and I'm still by his side."

"That's the best story…the perfect love."

"Oh no, not perfect, Bella. Nothing is perfect. We have had plenty of fights and near break-ups over the years. We are both passionate people so we fight as passionately as we make love."

"Did you ever really almost break-up?"

"Well, the closest we probably came was when Carlisle finally gave up trying to make it as an artist and decided to go down the gallery-publisher route instead. He was tormented about that, but he wanted us to be together and have a family, and he wasn't surviving financially by selling his art. He was so miserable all the time. I finally just got tired of it. Right at the point where he realized he was going to lose me, he figured out a way to make peace with his decision."

"Do you think he ever regrets it?"

"Regret…no. But I do think he misses the idea of being an artist. But he always tells me that he wouldn't change it if he could go back and do it all again. It is very hard to make your living at your art.

"You know, Bella, in the end the success you have in your career can only provide a certain kind of happiness and satisfaction. I believe that what really matters are your relationships and the love you have in your life. Nothing will ever be perfect, but I'm so lucky we never gave up on each other. The moments I have had with Carlisle are the bright light that I'll carry in my heart always."

..~*~..

Thursday evening as I go through the mail I come across a thick envelope with my name and address on its face. I immediately tear it open to find a hand-written letter on drawing paper. It appears to be torn out of sketch journal. My heart skips as I realize that this is probably from Edward. Sure enough, I look at the bottom of the letter and see his name. With shaky hands I walk over to the couch and sit down so that I can read without distractions.

_Bella, _

_The look in your eyes the moment you broke away from me has haunted my every waking moment since. All I've wanted was to prove myself good enough to deserve your attention, but my actions only proved how unworthy I really am. Now I will always know I let you down, and I will forever regret it. _

_Our connection has come to mean the world to me, and now it is gone. All I can hope is that one day you will give me a chance to prove myself so we can at least be friends again._

_I have taken some time away to try to sort things out. I haven't been in a good place in my head for a long time, and I want to change that. But meanwhile, I need to right my wrongs and let the people who are important to me in my life know how I feel._

_I'm sorry but it's hard to accept the idea that you are lost to me. With each day passing, instead of a healing, the pain just grows._

_I miss you Bella._

_Edward_

_._

My heart is heavy and tender as I slowly read his letter over twice more. I feel an entire range of emotions. I feel bad for him since he is obviously suffering. Part of me wants to wrap my arms around him and not let go. I miss him…especially when I think of some of the times we have had together. I feel a surge of anger for the scene with Irina and his inclination to always sleep with some whore than put any effort into a real relationship. I feel nervous thinking of the signs of his being obsessed with me and wondering how his sentiments in the letter are a reflection of that obsession.

I also think that despite our moment of passion at the print studio, we were still just friends and didn't owe each other anything beyond that. He still thinks I rejected him that night. As upsetting as the scene with Irina was, it's not like he was cheating on his girlfriend. I have to admit that I'm no saint either. I've been dating James for some of the wrong reasons so how judgmental can I be.

I feel a sudden urge to try to explain all of that to him…to clear the air and our tangle of crossed wires and misunderstandings. Hopefully by communicating we can both have some type of healing. I call Rose to get his Aunt Ann's mailing address in Ojai.

When I get in bed that night I perch a pad on my lap ready to compose my response.

_Dear Edward…_

About ten minutes pass before I realize that despite the grip I have on my pen, no thoughts are flowing through it onto the paper. I am a writer without words. There is so much confusion to sort in my heart and my head that I could write a novel and still not explain the emotional tango he has danced with my heart.

_Oh, Edward, _I sigh.

I open his letter up and read it one more time before giving up and setting everything back on my night table. I turn off the light and let the jumbled words swirl through my head until the curtain of sleep drops across the stage of my mind. The moon outside my window is full, and apparently it signals a night ripe for dreams.

.

_I am wandering through an empty house. It is a series of different sized room that all have hardwood floors, intricate crown moldings and oddly shaped picture windows. There is something quietly atmospheric about the place I find very appealing. Is it from the past or the future or does it balance on a dime's edge somewhere in between?_

_As I move from room to room I'm wondering if I am supposed to move here and if I did, what would I do with all these weird rooms? How will I afford a place this big? What about Alice?_

_Despite my trepidations I keep exploring. There are little staircases as some of the rooms are on different levels, and after a while I have no sense as to where I am in the house. Am I in an Escher drawing? Finally I walk into a room at the end of a hallway and there is a large white couch inside that faces a picture window. The edges of the window have a stained glass pattern that casts shapes of vibrant colors throughout the room. I look away from the window and focus on the couch and see the back of a man's head as he sits quietly. I realize it is Edward. _

_I immediately go over to him, and he is in that catatonic state…just looking straight ahead with no expression or movement. I say his name over and over, but he doesn't respond even when I stroke his face and try to turn his head towards me._

_My frustration builds as does my determination to get his attention. So I stand up and remove all my clothes until I am naked. Again there is no response from Edward. So I climb onto his lap straddling him and run my hands over his face. Despite his lack of response my passion is building, and I lift up and press my breast against his mouth, to no avail. His lips don't part or tremble…not even as I unbutton his shirt and rake my nails up and down his chest. Finally, as I kiss his frigid lips I start to undo his pants, and I slide my hand inside and hold onto him. He is hot in my grip and I am surprised when I feel him start to grow, pushing my fingers apart until he is hard and throbbing in my hand. Happy to finally have something to build on I begin to stroke him with one hand while pushing his pants further open with the other. _

_Now as I kiss him I also whisper words of longing…telling him I need him inside me, that I want him desperately. Finally I lift my hips, push him against me and lower myself down until he is all the way inside of me. My moan is long and melodic. I don't recall anything ever feeling this good._

_And suddenly it all changes as if his switch has been flicked on. He is alive and moving under me. Although he still doesn't speak, there is life and fire in his eyes and expression. His hands caress my back and slide down to my hips. He lifts and lowers me over him as he begins to shower me with kisses, up my neck and along my jaw. His mouth finally opens over mine and he kisses me deeply._

_I rock and tighten over him, arching my back so that my breasts are within easy reach and he kisses his way down to them hungrily . When he slides his hand between us to stroke me, my rocking speeds, and I finally tumble over the edge in orgasm. In that moment I lace my fingers into his hair and pull his face up towards me so that I can look in his eyes when my world explodes._

_In a single flash I see in his expression all the desire and passion that has always burned in him for me-I just had never understood it before. For a second I also think I see fear in his face as he falls over the edge with me. Just as quickly though, the fear evaporates as his jaw clenches and his eyes roll back in ecstasy as wave after wave crashes over him. We are hurling through space and time together._

_Even as I'm shaking and howling his name I am aware that although I've had orgasms before in my dreams, I've never started the freefall without seeming to hit a crescendo and eventually stop. But this dream is different for it just keeps building, the tremors continuously build inside me until my heart is thundering and I can't catch my breath. The pleasure is indefinable. My fingers are grasping at whatever part of him I can hold onto and my muscles are seizing, and it occurs to me that if this doesn't stop I could very well die from the force of it. And just as soon as I accept that I am willing to trade it all for this ultimate feeling of bliss…I am hurled out of my dream and wake up gasping for air and twisted up in my sheets._

I run my hands up and down my body in complete disbelief. My nipples are hard and overly sensitive to my touch. I am covered in sweat, and every muscle is quivering like I've just run a marathon. I slide my hand in between my legs and feel the tenderness and swollen wetness of my sex.

What in the hell just happened to me? I lay on my bed in the inky darkness of the night, and in the confused gap between wake and sleep I wonder if somehow, someway, I really was with Edward tonight. And even more compelling-I wonder if he is flung across his bed at this very moment questioning the same thing about me?

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**_Oh…you have to know how much I want to hear from you….._**

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	28. Chapter 28  On the Road to Ojai

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

Thank you to my beta TwilightZoner for believing in this story.

_Wow…your reviews for the last chapter really knocked me out. Thank you one and all._

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**Work of Art / Chapter Twenty-Eight / On The Road to Ojai**

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By the time Friday afternoon rolls around I realize that I need a "Rose fix" to snap me out of this funk. My amazing Edward dream continues to play in my mind-yet I still am struggling to figure out how to best respond to his letter. So to get my mind off things I call Rose to see if I can invite myself along to whatever her and Lauren's plans are. It's not uncommon for them to have groups of friends over on Friday nights, so I don't feel too presumptuous. As it turns out they are heading over to Los Angeles County Museum of Art because one of Rose's friends is performing with his jazz band as part of their Friday night concert series. She insists that I join them, so I speed up my pace so I can head out straight after work.

I meet them over at the museum and the band is just beginning to set up in the courtyard, so we duck into the Broad building to see the _Renoir in the Twentieth Century _exhibit. The exhibition is full of fleshy women stretched out languidly, and I step close to see the whispers of every color within each of Renoir's brushstrokes. _How did he do that?_ I wonder as I always do when I am able to see his work up close in person.

I am also drawn to the landscapes, and Rose studies his portraits carefully. We are surprised to find there aren't many people in the exhibit at this hour on a Friday, so we revel in our private moment with the master.

Back in the courtyard Lauren and friends are saving us seats close to the set-up. We stop at the bar and get wine for everyone before heading over. While we wait for the show to start we sip our Merlot and I entertain Rose and Lauren with my Santa Barbara story, which finally has evolved from a shuddering personal horror to a comedy sketch I will undoubtedly pull out and perform many times in my future.

"It's not a good sign when they fall over before they can even fuck you, Bella!" Rose shares a little loud for my taste. She needs to slow down with the wine.

"Well, at least he got her off before he crumbled," Lauren observes, trying to be supportive.

"Yeah, but we better keep this between us," Rose confirms. "You don't want it to get out that one afternoon with you and the guy can barely walk…not good for potential future suitors. That would be a turn-off to even the hardiest of guys."

"Thanks, Rose," I growl. "Did you forget that you were the one encouraging me to date an older man? Is it really my fault that he's now crippled?"

"You know what I love, Bella baby?" She licks her lips as she continues. "Here you acting all demur, but when the doors are closed you are actually as wicked as they come. I envy the guy that finally wins your heart…talk about the total package!"

And although Lauren has a flash of what looks like jealousy it immediately fades, and she nods her head in agreement. Rose throws her arm over Lauren's shoulder and gives her a reassuring squeeze and a kiss.

.

The sun has just tucked behind the Ahmanson building when the music starts. The concert is amazing. I haven't been exposed to a lot of live jazz but this band is great. I feel the music surge through me in the same way a great painting does. I even find myself swaying and nodding my head to the music while watching the pianist tear up the keyboard. The saxophonist plays his instrument with his entire body, passionately working his sax like she is a sexy woman in his capable hands. As for the tall handsome bassist who sways with his eyes closed and taps his foot to the beat, at another point in time I would have been ready to pull him behind the backdrop and have my way with him. There is nothing more tempting than a man with soul, but I'm sober enough to know that I don't need any more complications in my life right now. As hard as I have tried with James, I can't fuck my way out of my problems and the lingering draw I feel towards Edward. Hell, it seems to be getting clearer that he isn't the only one obsessed in the see-saw of our quasi relationship-friendship-whatever.

After the show we hang around to say hi to the band. Alan, the leader, actually owns one of Rose's paintings, and he greets her warmly. One of Rose's friends knows the drummer. Introductions are done all around, and I notice the bass player checking me out. The opportunity this presents does not escape me. But when we announce that we are heading over to the Abbey to grab a bite, he backs off assuming I am a lesbian too. I am relieved and have no plans to try to convince him otherwise.

.

The Abbey is one of the premier gay hangouts in L.A. As we walk through the door Rose is greeted by everyone we pass that works there, and we are ushered right into the VIP room where we take a big corner booth. We order our first round of drinks, and I decide on their special spiked lemonade and a burger for dinner. Our waitress flirts with all of us but is also meticulous in her service, and we get our food promptly.

I sit next to Darlene and her girlfriend Michelle who have known Lauren for years. Darlene is a Production Manager for a company that makes music videos, so she has endless stories of the unbelievable challenges that occur when trying to make a four minute film. I've heard the stories of the rock stars showing up six hours late and assistants having to pick out all the blue M&M's out of the bowl so as not to offend the talent, but Darlene is so jaded by it all that she explains Lady Gaga or Britney Spears' antics like it is just another day at the office.

When we are well into our second round of drinks Rose asks if I have written Edward back yet.

"No," I reply, frustrated. "Every time I try to think of what to say I can't seem to come up with the right words."

She makes a face, and I steel myself knowing that alcohol can tend to give her a hard edge. I also think she is worn out from worrying about Edward.

"Not much needs to be said," she huffs. "He's had his dramatic moment and at least a week to be emo…but now it's time to get back on the horse. If he doesn't get his ass home and back to work soon, I'm going to go up to Ojai and fucking drag him home myself. And he's not going to want that."

"No," Lauren confirms. "That would mean over an hour trapped in a car with you riding his ass all the way home."

We all laugh, and despite knowing that Rose's bark is bigger than her bite, I have to wonder if a push from a friend may be just what Edward needs.

When I get home I crawl onto my bed and open up Edward's letter again, hoping it will finally inspire the response I want to write him. Yet again I am stymied, and I wish I had an ounce of Rose's boldness and practicality. I can't help but wonder if he were here with me face to face what would I have the courage to say? I lift my pen…but start composing the letter first in my head.

_Edward….Thank you for your letter. I know you think how we left things that we are supposed to hate each other. But I can't hate you…_

Good God, that sounds stupid. _Surely you can do better than that_. I crumple the virtual sheet of parchment in my mind and heave it into the imaginary trash before starting again.

_Dear Edward….Do you dream of me? I ask because I dream of you and sometimes it's as if we were together, really together. Is that weird?_

Oh yeah, that's so much better…idiot! Sounds like the spiked lemonade talking. It also sounds like you are coming onto him…and what's with the metaphysical crap? Besides you are still pissed at him. This is not the time to go all soft.

_ Hi Edward…Do you want to go bowling? I would give anything to just be able to go bowling with you again. I'd like things to be simple and fun again...but I guess things were never truly simple, were they?_

This is probably the closest to what you really want to say, but it is still complete crap_._

_Fuck!_ For all the thoughts shuffling through my brain, none of them are worthy of a hand-written letter. So once again my paper is as empty as the Target parking lot at midnight. Realizing that it is very late, I slam my pen and pad down and wrestle with my pillow until finally surrendering to sleep.

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Morning creeps quietly into my bedroom until the light of day can't be denied. As I flutter under the sheets and blink the fuzziness out of my eyes, the answer hits me with ease and assuredness. I must drive to Ojai and tell Edward face to face what is on my mind.

With that resolve, I rise and begin my morning rituals: coffee started, check; brisk shower, check; dressing in cute attire, check; standard grooming and application of cosmetics, check.

I chew on a bagel doused with cream cheese while I look up on MapQuest how to get my ass to Ojai. As I print out the instructions an idea occurs to me, and I send another job to my printer while I finish my breakfast.

.

It isn't until I am settled into my car and well on my way north before the panic sets in. What exactly am I going to say to him? And even worse, what if I get there and he refuses to see me? Even though we are _or were_ just friends, one hundred-forty miles is a long way to go to be rejected. But luckily these thoughts are working me over now that I'm speeding along the freeway, not earlier at home when I could have easily abandoned the idea of going in the first place.

The first hour on the freeway is endless as I run every possible scenario through my head including that I ring the bell and no one is home. Picturing that idea in my head provides me another reminder that _art boy_ does not like surprises. The irony with that is I'm not so sure that I like surprises either.

Eventually I reach the turnoff to Ojai off the 101 which leads me through a rural area as I drive inland for about twenty minutes. Despite getting closer, there are a few tell-tale signs that we aren't in the idyllic little town yet, the first being a Burger King-Taco Bell strip mall and the second, a slightly worn out looking Starbucks. I hit the breaks and swerve into the parking lot. _Time for a latte,_ I surmise.

Yes, I may be tired from the drive and can benefit from a shot of caffeine, but I'm not fooling myself…the terror is setting in, and I'm losing the courage to follow through with my plan to pay Edward and his aunt a visit. A detour buys me some more time to potentially change my mind.

Other than the lone woman working behind the counter, I am the only one in Starbucks this fine morning, and I realize after years of waiting in lines in L.A. that walking right up to the counter and ordering is a new experience for me. Before I decide on my drink, I look out the window, distracted.

"A penny for your thoughts," the barista says, while wiping her hands on her green apron. Her brown hair is threaded with gray and she has a sun-worn but kind face. This is quite a difference from the college students that usually help me at home.

I snap to attention and face her. "Oh yes, I'll have a tall non-fat latte with a shot of sugar-free vanilla and extra foam. Oh, and a Spenda mixed in." If I'm going to pay three bucks for a cup of coffee they can mix in my damn Splenda.

"You're not from around here," she comments and then smiles at me.

"Oh, how could you tell?" I humor her.

"You're a fancy woman…let me guess…L.A.? You're too wound up for Santa Barbara."

"Wound up? Gee thanks." I chuckle.

"It's a man, isn't it?"

_Great,_ I've found the Starbucks psychic…I will not only get a latte but hear my fortune too. I leave an entire dollar bill in the tip box. "Yes, a man," I sigh.

"He must be special if you came all this way for him." She clucks her tongue as she pulls a lever and the milk steamer hisses and moans.

"But I'm not sure he even wants to see me. I've come all this way, and he may not even be home."

"Oh, he's been waiting for you. He'll be there."

She says it with such authority that it gives me the creeps. What else does she know?

"But you gotta remember, dear, that men are slow about this stuff. You have to teach them the right way to be with a woman…how to appreciate what is right in front of them."

_Good God, Bella, why are you having this conversation with a complete stranger?_

"You really think he is interested in me like that?" I'm pushing it now but what the hell…I'll never see this woman again. This just adds another side note to my bizarre road trip.

She gives me a long intense look almost like she is looking right into me. I twitch nervously.

"Yes I do…more than you know, child." She carefully splits open the little cardboard sleeve and lovingly slides it up the sides of my latte.

Just then four teenagers stumble through the door, and the magic ambience is broken. The psychic barista heads over to the cash register to take their orders, and I grab my drink and walk back towards my car. I roll down the windows and sit, sipping my coffee for a while thinking about her prediction. The certainty of her thoughts has had an effect on me. Finally I start up the engine, freshly determined to reach my destination.

.

Edward's aunt's home is at the base of the Topatopa mountain range in a cluster of one-story ranch style homes. Despite it being almost mid-day the street is quiet, with the only person in sight-a woman out tending her lush garden. A riot of California poppies run along the edges of her yard, the delicate paper thin flowers turning their happy faces towards the sun.

The feeling is expansive as I step out of my car with the sky seeming bigger and bluer than it is at home. I take a deep breath, then another. _It will by okay…it will be okay,_ I chant to myself.

I approach the house cautiously. My heart is pounding, and the note where I had written down the address is wadded up in my fist. I try to distract myself with the details like the house's dark-gray painted wood-siding and bright white shutters. The front porch has potted fiery orange geraniums and two white Adirondack chairs. I press the doorbell apprehensively, knowing everything could change from this moment on. It has a gentle chime, belying the emotional turmoil that could exist inside.

I listen for any sense of movement in the house. Finally I hear footsteps, and the door swings open to reveal a tallish woman with shoulder-length auburn hair and bright eyes. She is wearing a colorful longish skirt and a fitted red knit shirt.

"Bella?"

For a moment I am dumbstruck…is this whole town psychic?

"Yes, how did you know who I am?"

"I'm sorry, I'm being rude. Please come in." She steps aside and gestures for me to enter. I take several steps into her home.

"I'm Ann, Edward's aunt. He's told me all about you." She reaches out towards me, and we shake hands slowly."

"It's nice to meet you." I smile at her and peek further into the house. "Is Edward here? I was hoping I could see him."

"He's out for a run, so why don't you come sit down and wait for him." We walk into the living room. It is a warm room filled with window light, an eclectic mix of antiques, and a big comfortable looking couch. There is an elaborate Asian rug on the floor, and all the colors in the room, from the pale ochre on the walls to the ivy color of the sofa, are picked up from the rich design. There are framed black and white photographs hanging everywhere.

"I'm so glad you are here. It will be good for Edward to see you."

"Well, I feel really bad just barging in without calling but I woke up this morning and had the idea to come. If I had planned or thought about it too much I would have talked myself out of it.

"Yes," she agrees. "You must be nervous to see him. I think you were brave to come."

"Brave or stupid, I guess, depending on how Edward reacts to my being here."

"Stupid, never…it may not be easy for you guys to work things out, but I think it is important that you do." She motions for me to sit down. "Would you like something to drink? Tea? Water?"

"No, thanks, I just had some coffee. So how is he doing anyway?"

"Well, he's making progress. He was in quite a state when I picked him up in Oxnard. Evidently Edward has been on a downward spiral for a while, but he was trying to hide it from everyone. It's a hard lesson when you finally achieve everything you thought you wanted and then realize that you still aren't happy…that your life feels empty."

I nod in agreement. I can now look back on so many signs to see that Edward was in worse shape than I realized.

"Then the unfortunate way he handled his complicated feelings for you just pushed him over the edge. The night that he walked out of his house, he was convinced that he had lost you, or maybe I should say, _your friendship,_ for good.

"And as hard as this has been on both of you, I believe that you coming into his life was the best thing that could have happened to Edward. You have made him realize that there can be so much more."

I want to ask her what she means by that cryptic _so much more_ comment, but just then we hear a door closing and it sounds like it is coming from the back of the house. Ann turns her head and listens carefully. We hear the fridge open and shut and then footsteps moving away from us.

"He must be going to take his shower," she comments, but the look on her face gives me the idea that he must not be happy I am here. I'm sure he saw my car parked in front of the house.

There is an awkward pause and then to divert the conversation I ask Ann about her photography and the work that is hanging in her living room. She explains that all but one of the images are from other photographers she has collected over the years. Some are the work of friends of hers, some from people she has admired from afar.

I get up and walk over to one in particular that has caught my eye. It is a rear view of a couple leaning on a railing overlooking the scenery. A sweeping view of Paris lies before them, with the Eiffel Tower rising tall above the enchanting city. The couple is dressed in clothes I would estimate from the '50s, and their body language suggests that they are in love. It is a non-traditional composition with the couple low and to the side of the frame, and it is brilliant.

Ann responds as I gaze at the image, "Don't you love that...just the idea of being in love in Paris." She sighs. "That is one of my favorite images."

"Have you been to Paris?" I ask, having the feeling that she has traveled extensively.

"Yes, a number of times. You?"

I shake my head no.

"You must go…every artist must go. I think Lizzy took Edward the first time when he was nine. As a creative person, a writer, you will find it incredibly inspiring. You will be changed forever.

"I'll tell Edward that he should take you."

"Somehow I don't think I would do that right now." I laugh uncomfortably.

"Yes, but maybe one day."

I change the subject and ask her about her work. She is semi-retired now and no longer shoots many commercial jobs, but she still shoots personal commissions and is working on several long-range projects. She even sells a portion of her images off her own website. Her most serious fine art work is in a number of photography galleries such as Fahey Klein in L.A., Verve in Santa Fe and Marian Goodman in New York. I am very impressed. Creative talent must run deep in Edward's family's genes.

We have been chatting for a while when I realize that Edward's shower must be long over. I notice Ann tip her head again listening for him, and so I finally address the situation. "It seems it was a mistake for me to come." I am starting to feel sick to my stomach, and the desire to flee is building inside of me. "I think I better go." I start to stand up.

"No!" Ann insists. "Please, before you leave, let me talk to him and find out what is going on. He is probably just shocked and wants to be calm so he can say the right things." She jumps up and I can tell she is grasping at straws.

"Well, you can try. I'll wait a couple of more minutes, but then I'm going to go."

She quickly exits the room and the wait begins. After about five minutes I am a wreck. _Why did I come here?_ _What did I think I was going to accomplish other than more humiliation?_ I am about to make my escape when Ann comes back. She is alone.

I stand up. "Well, I almost forgot that I brought a copy of his book with me. I thought he might like to finally read it. Why don't I go get it out of my car, and then I will be on my way."

"He's just mad at me because he thinks I made you come here. He doesn't believe that you came of your own free will. But I know he wants to see you, Bella."

"Did he say that?"

"No, but I could tell clear as day the way he asked all about you-the look in his eyes. Honestly he's a nervous wreck-he just needs to get a handle on his emotions."

Somehow that just doesn't mean much when he is still isn't at least coming to acknowledge my being here after I've come all this way. Besides, I'm a fucking nervous wreck too. I move for the front door defeated. "I'll get the book. It will just take a sec."

As I walk towards my car I pull out my key and unlock the doors from the remote. I am only steps away from it when I hear a flurry of footsteps and my name being called.

"Bella!" There is anguish in his voice and it is edged with panic. "Please don't leave, Bella!"

I turn slowly to see Edward rushing towards me, and just the sight of him takes my breath away. His eyes are electric as they frantically search my face for answers. He is even more stunning than I remember him with his wet tousled hair and heightened color from his run. Barefoot and wearing soft faded jeans, he is frantically buttoning an old plaid shirt as he moves. I see a glimpse of his strong defined chest before the shirt is pulled closed. The look in his eyes tells me everything I've wanted to know and more.

He is upon me, the most tragically beautiful man I have ever seen. And even though the pain, disappointment and longing are still weights in his pockets sinking him into the earth-his hands and heart are open. "Bella," he whispers as he instinctively reaches out for me.

And in that moment, every doubt about coming to see him evaporates from my mind as I realize that this is exactly where I should be.

"It's okay, Edward. I'm here…I'm finally here," I say softly before I fold myself into his open arms.

.

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**_I know, I know…you think Bella caved in and all is forgiven…all I'll say is don't jump to conclusions yet. Do you think she should have gone to Ojai?_**

**_Part three of my fast track to Edward is posting this Sunday._**

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Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway


	29. Chapter 29  Starting Over

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

**Thank you to my beta TwilightZoner  
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_**This chapter is dedicated to my mom who still lives in "the neighborhood" mentioned in this chapter. She married my dad who was a wild artist and tamed him just enough so they could have a great life together. I wish she could know that I wrote this story.**_

**Music note: I listened to Snow Patrol's, _Give Me Strength_ over and over while I wrote this.**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Twenty-Nine / Starting Over.**

_What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?_

_-anonymous quote _

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"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he says softly as he wraps his arms even tighter around me. He takes a deep breath, and I can hear his heart thundering while I am pressed against his chest.

My eyes instantly fill with tears, and the surge of emotion takes me by surprise. This wasn't part of my master plan… _No crying, Bella,_ I tell myself sternly. I take a deep breath and steady myself.

"Sorry?" I finally ask. I am curious where his list of _reasons to be sorry_ will start.

"Well, first I am sorry that you were leaving-that you must have thought I didn't want to see you."

"Yes, well that's true. A bit longer and I would have been long gone."

His hug tightens again and my breath catches.

"It just was hard because I wanted to see you too much. Day after day I've wanted to see you, and then once you were here it just overwhelmed me."

"Well, I'm not going to bite."

"You promise?" He laughs softly.

I wiggle so that his grasp loosens, and then I step out of the hug despite his resistance.

I look up at him. "Why don't we sit down somewhere we can talk."

He gestures towards the side yard, and I walk along side of him towards the back. The grass is long and softly tickles my ankles as we move forward. A free-standing loveseat swing is perched under a large tree and we sit down. He gently pushes us back and forth as I look around the yard taking everything in.

"I got your letter," I finally say.

"Is that why you came?"

"I suppose. I know you have been having a rough time and it's made me sad and confused. There have been so many misunderstandings between us. I thought if you could see me and know that I am all right, that I don't hate you or harbor any ill will…that it might help you."

I notice him flinching. "So you drove all this way to help _me_?" he asks looking stunned.

"Yes I did. I care about you, Edward…despite everything that happened, I do."

His head falls to his chest, and he looks defeated.

"What?" I ask, trying to figure out what his expression means.

"I don't want you here because you feel sorry for me, Bella."

"Okay," I accede. "Why would you hope I'm here?"

"I guess because you've missed me and that you really wanted to see me too. Have you thought about me at all since I've been gone?"

"Of course I have, I've thought about you a lot. I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out what happened…what went wrong." I look over at him, and I can see he is in pain again.

"Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer it. I mean it's not like I deserve an answer."

I nod.

"Jasper told me that you are seeing James still even though the book project is over. Is that true?"

I nod. _Damn Jasper, why did he have to tell Edward about that?_

"Why Bella? Are you really into him."

I push my legs out making the swinging motion start up again. I don't really want to be having _this_ conversation with Edward. I think hard for a moment before I answer.

"I think what I'm in to is the way he treats me…like I'm special…and smart… beautiful too. It feels really good to have someone treat you like that, and I think it came along at a time when I needed it."

"Well, you deserve to be treated like that. I'm sorry that I didn't make you feel that way." I can feel his jealously permeating through his skin.

I smile sadly at him. "Do you remember the day we met, when you swept me out of the show and took me to that little restaurant? I didn't realize at the time that you were just flirting with me like you do with a lot of women and for those precious couple of hours I felt very special. You made me feel like I was the only woman in the world."

He smiles, remembering. "It wasn't just flirting…I was completely taken with you."

"Really? Because when we left the restaurant you abandoned me on the curb when you saw that model you knew. I felt like I was kicked in the stomach. That was when I decided you could never be the guy for me."

He lifts himself off the swing and takes several steps forward. Even though he isn't facing me I can see the tension in his body. He runs his hands through his hair exasperated. He paces for a while, and I watch his every move. Finally he comes back and sits on the swing.

"See how I keep fucking things up for myself? I guess deep down I've always known that you should never be with a guy like me…a guy with my kind of past. You deserve so much more."

"Well, I don't know about that. It's not like I'm perfect."

"But that fucking scene with Irina…you would have never done that if the situation were reversed, and I sure wish you hadn't seen it."

"Yes, that wasn't one of your better moments. I wish with all my being that I hadn't come by that night. I think that event will always haunt me."

"Well, if it's any comfort, I would give anything to go back in time and remove that nightmare from both our memories. It was hellish to begin with, but then when I realized you were there witnessing my moment in hell, I just wanted to fucking die."

"Okay, we are in agreement there. But, Edward, as bad as it was it's not like you were cheating on your girlfriend or something. Other than you getting caught up in a moment and wanting to fuck me at the studio, we have only ever just been friends."

"No, Bella. You're wrong, because I was cheating on the way I feel about you. I was lying to myself and trying to avoid what my heart was telling me."

I am shocked by what he is saying to me. It is almost like I am sitting before a different Edward…a man stripped of his bravado and manufactured persona…a man who senses he may never have the thing he wants most and is trying so hard to hold onto whatever he can.

My head drops because I can't find the words to respond. I just don't know how to step forward. He senses that I am lost.

"Don't worry, Bella. I'm not going to harass you. If I've realized anything since I've been here, it is that I need to get myself on the right track before I can be good enough to deserve your attention. I can only hope when I am doing better that you will give me a chance to show you who I really am inside.

"So you still want to try to be friends?" I can hear doubt in my voice. That would be a start.

"I'll take whatever I can get." He gives me a long somber gaze and the look in his eyes makes me believe what he is saying.

He stands up again and turns towards me. "Look, I have somewhere I am supposed to be and it's going to take about an hour, but I really don't want you to leave yet. You could come with me or stay here and hang out while I'm gone…just please don't leave."

I stand up as well. "I'll go with you."

.

We head to the house and he gathers a canvas and some paint supplies while I speak with Ann. She offers for me to join them for dinner. I can see the hope in her eyes for Edward and me, and it makes me uncomfortable, but I ask her if we can see how the afternoon goes. Normally it would be rude to ask for such a concession, but considering everything I think she understands.

I offer to drive so he doesn't have to borrow Ann's car, and he starts directing me to our destination. He explains that to help him heal Ann has worked with him on a tangible plan. The first is that she has located a good therapist in Santa Monica that he's been doing phone sessions with, and he's going to start seeing her in person when he goes home. Secondly, she has strongly encouraged him to do charity work that will get him to focus on helping other people for a change. We pull up to a large building called Sunrise Assisted Living Facility, and Edward starts to tell me about the woman we are going to visit inside.

Helen was struck with Alzheimers at sixty-seven which is still considered fairly young. At the time she was a dynamic business woman and world traveler. Within three years her car was taken away, and she could no longer live without a round-the-clock caregiver for fear of her leaving the stove on or wandering out of the house in the middle of the night. She has now had the disease ten years and her family finally moved her to this facility three years ago, because they are specialists in Alzheimers and have a locked and private section of the building dedicated to people like Helen.

Then two years ago an artist came to work with the Alzheimers group, and they were amazed to see that Helen came alive with a paintbrush in her hand. Although she had never painted before, and despite the constant fog she stumbles through in her disease, she had the ability to create amazing paintings effortlessly and with great passion. Edward has already worked with her twice and is blown away by her.

I am nervous as the caregiver imputs numbers into the door keypad to "the neighborhood" where all the Alzheimer's patients live. As soon as we are inside, Helen sees Edward and her face lights up. She comes right over to him and puts her hands on his face.

"Joe, you came back! Look, everyone, my handsome Joey is here."

Edward seems unfazed by her strange greeting, and he gives her a hug and starts setting out the supplies on the table. She stays close by his side, and although her words have dissolved into gibberish, she still seems delighted that he is with her. The activities director helps by bringing out paper and supplies for the rest of the residents. Edward directs me to go to the kitchen and bring back a cup with water, a paper plate and some paper towels.

When I get back, Edward is finishing up fanning out all of the colorful tubes of paint. He gently shows Helen and asks what colors she wants to start with. She points to an emerald Green and a golden yellow. Edward squeezes out generous amounts on the plate and hands her a brush.

Over the next hour I am transfixed while watching Edward gently coax and flirt with Helen as she paints with all of the confidence of a seasoned artist. The work is abstract, and I am amazed at the sophisticated way she approaches the painting. She doesn't hesitate or labor over her movements the way a lucid person might. Her painting is the purest form of expression. While she works, I walk around watching the other residents attempt to color pages similar to something you would see in a preschool. Many of them are much further along in the disease than Helen. Everyone seems content though and is working away.

At one point Helen grabs Edward's collar and says some gibberish that I can't make out. He nods his head and squeezes her hand affectionately. She picks up her brush, swirls it in the cobalt blue he has just put out for her, and starts painting again. Edward looks over at me and smiles. I can see that he is glad that I can share this with him.

Helen finishes the painting with the same assuredness that she started it. She sets her brush down, walks over to a nearby couch and motions for Edward to join her. I gather up the paints and take the brushes into the kitchen to wash them out.

When I return Edward is sitting next to Helen. They are holding hands, and she is resting her head on his shoulder. As I approach them Edward explains to her that he has to go but that it was so great to paint with her. One of the caregivers comes over to distract Helen, and we quietly are led out of the Neighborhood by another caregiver.

We silently walk down the long hallway towards the lobby, and I realize that all of the paintings lining the walls are Helen's. I am amazed by the work. They are good…really good, and if I didn't know the history behind them I would thing they were done by a serious artist.

"You know her work is really great. This is such a fascinating story. I'm surprised more people don't know about her."

"Well, that is intentional according to the wishes of her family. They are so right because if people started telling her story she would become a spectacle-a circus freak show-and that wouldn't be good for Helen. Painting is a pure joy for her. Before she had declined to her current state they did a little show for her at the facility just among the regular residents and she freaked out. They say the best thing for people with Alzheimer's is minimal outside stimulation and a very regular schedule. When you watch Helen paint you can tell she doesn't want recognition or attention from it-she just wants to create."

"I'm go glad I got to experience this with you," I say gently, and I reach out and take his hand. As we pass through the front door out to the street, I realize that although Helen has probably already forgotten that we were there, the affect she has had on Edward will stay with him the rest of his life.

.

When we get back to the house I go to the car and grab the copy of his book that I'd brought to bring inside. Neither one of us want to address me leaving yet, so we make a snack of some fruit, cheese and crackers and head out to the backyard again. Edward also has his sketchbook, and I've borrowed one of Ann's photography magazines, so we sit quietly while I read and he starts drawing. After I have read several articles, I realize I am so relaxed that I am having trouble focusing on the page. Edward looks over and notices.

"I think it's nap time for angel." He points over at a hammock nestled between two trees. "Why don't you stretch out for a few?"

He doesn't have to ask twice. I slowly get up and move over to the hammock and hold it still while I crawl inside. The sides wrap up around me creating a womb-like effect, and after only moments of swaying and feeling the warm sun and cool breeze brush over me, I fall into a very deep sleep.

When I wake up, I assume I am in a dream as there is a thick quilt over me and a pink cast over the entire yard. I slowly sit up and rub my eyes. I see Edward about twenty feet away with an easel set up. He is painting and looks very content. He glances over at me and notices I'm awake.

"Hey, sleepy head. Did you have a nice nap?"

"Heavenly," I respond while stretching. "How long have I been asleep anyway?"

"Over an hour." He laughs as I almost lose my balance trying to get out of the hammock.

"You've got to be kidding! I guess all those nights lying awake finally caught up with me. I'm sorry to be such lousy company."

"You could never be lousy company. There was something wonderful about having you swing in a tree next to me while I painted."

Just then Ann comes out to the yard with two glasses of sangria. "Here," she says as she hands us our glasses. "Enjoy the pink moment."

"What is that?" I ask.

"Since Ojai is lined up with an east-west mountain range, it is one of the few towns in the world to have a _Pink Moment_ occur as the sun is setting-when the fading sunlight creates a vivid shade of pink for several minutes on the Topatopa Bluffs."

Edward and I take our drinks and sit in the swing together, quietly rocking while we admire the show Mother Nature is providing. The pink has a few brilliant minutes until the sun falls and then a soft violet washes over us. Finally, when most of the yard has fallen into dark shadow, we gather up our things and move inside.

Ann is bustling around the kitchen preparing dinner, and she is delighted to hear that I will be joining them. She is making a penne pasta with a home-made Bolognese sauce topped with sautéed mushrooms and freshly grated parmesan. Edward takes over the salad duties, cutting up tomatoes, basil and mozzarella for a Caprese salad. Ann tells us stories about this new phase of her life in Ojai while we sip our drinks and sit down to eat.

After dinner Edward pours me my third glass of Sangria, and it occurs to me that he may be trying to get me drunk so I can't drive back tonight. But by nine p.m., when we are still drinking and having fun, it is Ann that insists that I stay over in the guest room and Edward can sleep on the sofa. He heartily agrees, loaning me one of his T-shirts to sleep in. We turn in before eleven, and surprising, I fall asleep right away despite my long nap.

But in the middle of the night I wake with a thunderous headache_. You fool,_ I think. I should know better than to drink that much sweet Sangria. I fish around in my purse until I find some aspirin and then head off to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

On my way back to bed I notice a light on in the living room, and I look in to see Edward in the middle of the couch. He is holding the manila folder with his story against his chest. I can't tell for sure but it looks like he has been crying, and it scares me. Without thinking twice I go right up to him.

"What's wrong, Edward? Are you okay?" Now that I am closer I can see his eyes are rimmed with red. He looks like he is three steps away from a catatonic state, and I don't want to deal with that kind of drama when my head feels like it is splitting open.

A few moments pass and then he looks up at me. "I don't know what to say, Bella." He holds the folder straight out in front of me.

I can't tell if he hates it or what his expression means. I feel a surge of panic.

"Is it okay? God, I hope you like it."

"Like it? Like it? Bella, I knew you would do a great job. But I didn't realize that it would be fucking amazing…groundbreaking…brilliant."

My mood instantly shifts, and I am flipping cartwheels of joy inside. "You mean it?"

"Oh, yeah. My only concern is that I may never be able to live up to the man you wrote about."

"That's not true, Edward. You already do. You are that man, and I'm not just saying that to make you feel good."

He sets the folder down on the coffee table, and he holds out his arms, beckoning. I step forward and sink onto the couch next to him, and he pulls me into a big hug then kisses me on the top of my head.

"Thank you, angel. I could thank you every day for the rest of my life and it still wouldn't be enough."

"Well remember, despite the fact that you are a real handful, I will always be your number one fan," I say playfully.

"Handful? Well, you can hold me in your hands any time."

I laugh, deciding not to dwell on the sexual innuendo. "Okay, I'll remember that." I pause, considering for a moment if I should bring up what is on my mind.

"What?" he asks, sensing my hesitation.

"Since we are making such headway here in our friendship, can we talk about that night in the printing studio?"

I feel his body tense up, but he nods his head in agreement.

"You know, when it all went wrong…why did you say you never wanted it to happen?"

"I didn't say that…I couldn't have said that." He groans.

"Oh, yes you did, and it broke me. I've replayed that moment in my head a million times."

"Fuck" He shakes his head in frustration. "I sure as hell didn't mean it the way you took it."

I wait patiently for him to continue.

"When you agreed to do the book project, I already had a thing for you, but I had promised myself to wait until it was over before I pursued you. I guess somewhere inside I knew I would fuck things up. I have a history of being way too obsessive. It wasn't fair to you if I kept distracting you when you had invested so much into the project. Besides what was waiting ten or twelve weeks out of a lifetime? So what I meant when I said _I didn't want this_ in the heat of the moment was that I didn't want it to happen when it did and the way it did."

I look at him and watch his expression change from self-loathing to desire as he remembers.

"But that night in the studio...watching you move, the way you looked…in my entire life I have never wanted anyone that much. The desire just took over."

"That was quite a moment."

"Yeah." He smiles. "And you know what? I was actually restraining myself. I only showed you half of what was burning inside of me."

_Hot damn._ I feel the fire burn up my chest and across my face.

"So when you rejected me, I completely collapsed inside. All of the anger, frustrations, disappointment all rolled into one ball of fury. It got so big that I thought I was going to explode, but instead I just shut down. Luckily you had left by then."

"Jacob told me about finding you."

"Great. My humiliation knows no bounds."

"But Edward, I wasn't rejecting you. I can see why you would have thought that, but I reacted the way I did because I panicked and thought in your eyes I was just another art-whore. In that moment, I didn't believe that I was anything special to you, and I couldn't handle it."

"And that is why you pushed me away?" His eyes are wide and incredulous. "You thought you weren't special?"

"Yes." I curl into myself remembering how bad that moment felt.

"Fuck, Bella, if you only had known. If you could have seen inside me you would have understood that you aren't just special to me…you are the first girl I've met in years that I want more from."

"More than just a fuck?"

"Yes, much more." His arm is wrapped around me, pulling me closer. I want to believe him, but I have to fight my natural instincts. I try to put the feelings into words.

"And now look at us. If I wasn't so damn insecure and convinced you didn't want me, I could have told you how I really felt so much sooner. Seriously, Edward, I should go into therapy too. Every time I think I'm finally getting my life together I make bad decisions and end up back at square one."

"Oh, Bella." He rubs my arm gently. "You're stronger than you think…you'll get to where you want to be. I believe in you. Look, we can both work on getting our heads straight."

"Okay, but we have to be careful because we sure know how to make a mess of things," I lament, rubbing my eyes before I rise to head back to bed. I'm too exhausted emotionally and physically to sort all this out now. He sadly shakes his head in agreement and stands up to give me one more hug.

"Okay, angel, get back to bed. We can talk more tomorrow."

I feel such a swell of conflicting emotions. I want to believe everything he is saying, but my self-protective guard is still up. I realize that with one misstep Edward can flatten me out emotionally again.

.

When I wander into the kitchen the next morning, Ann is sitting with her coffee at the table reading the paper. Edward is nowhere in sight.

"Good morning, Bella. Did you sleep well?" She gets up to pour me some coffee.

"Well, after I took some aspirin for my Sangria headache I did sleep well."

"Yes, I think we all overdid it with the Sangria. Edward is out running to burn it off." She sets the coffee in front of me along with a mini pitcher of milk and bowl of sugar.

"You know, Bella, I have to thank you. You're being here has meant the world to Edward. I feel like he is finally turning the corner in his healing. He still has a lot of work to do on himself, but he is very motivated to be better. I feel so hopeful now."

"I'm so glad to hear that. I really care about Edward, and I want him to be happy…whatever form that takes."

She smiles warmly at me. "Lizzy would have just loved you. You are the exact type of girl she always hoped Edward would end up with. One of the last things she talked to me about before she died was that her greatest wish was that Edward would find someone very special to spend his life with. God, she loved that boy."

I feel guilt swell up inside of me. She is expecting way too much from me and whatever Edward and my relationship is now.

"You do understand, Ann, that we are friends. And just yesterday morning we weren't even that."

"Yes, and I'm sorry to be so presumptuous. I just have such high hopes for Edward, so I can't seem to stop getting away from myself."

"That's okay," I reply with a smile. "At least now I can say that we will be good friends and looking out for each other. Who knows what the future holds."

She looks at me with a particular smile. If I didn't know better it would seem that she had seen into the future and already knew that Edward and I were headed towards something more. I shake off the ridiculous feeling just as Edward bounds through the back door.

I can immediately see why Ann is being so optimistic. He looks so happy and hopeful. His face is radiant, and I don't think it's just from the run. After he downs a glass of water at the sink he turns to me.

"Can I hitch a ride with you, Bella? I think it's time to go home."

_Wow._

"Sure, Edward, I'd be happy to take you home."

.

After breakfast we load up my car with the few items of clothing and art supplies he has acquired since arriving in Ojai. I give Ann a warm hug and then watch Edward say goodbye to her. They are so sweet together as she rests her hand on his cheek and talks to him softly. He nods as she speaks and then takes her hand and kisses the center of her palm before wrapping his arms around her. They hug for a long time, and I feel a wave of sadness when they finally pull apart. Ann is such a good person for Edward to have in his life. If only she lived closer. Well, hopefully they will keep in more consistent contact now.

We are quiet for a lot of the drive home. At first I think he is processing his sadness for parting from Ann but then I imagine his apprehension is growing about returning to his old life. Will he be able to make the changes he needs to be happy?

As we arrive in Malibu I pull into the lot for the market at Trancas so Edward can pick up some groceries. While he goes inside I stay behind to call Rose. She is grateful for the update and to know that I was able to get him to come home. She offers to come spend the afternoon with him, and I promise to call her after I talk to him about it.

Even I feel tremendous tension as we finally head down the driveway off of PCH. I am relieved to see the walls repainted and the broken plants and pottery gone, but the house still seems to hold many ghosts just waiting to haunt us. I take his hand as we step onto the walkway leading to his door.

When he steps inside, he throws down his things and walks straight to the French doors in the living room, throwing them open and stepping out onto the patio. He leans over the railing and gazes out over the ocean.

I go over to his iPod dock, pick out one of his playlists and turn it on before going to the kitchen to make some tea. When the tea is ready I realize that he is still looking at the ocean, and I carry our mugs outside to join him.

"You know, Edward," I finally say as I gaze across the brilliant blue combination of sky and water, "I normally don't like those bullshit self-help books but sometimes they actually can make sense. I read one once that said your intentions defined you. You can decide to be whoever, whatever you want. You just have to make up your mind."

"Is that so, Oprah?" he teases me.

"Yup, it is. So you better listen to Oprah. She actually _is_ the leader of the free world, and she is never wrong."

I linger for a while and then finally tell Edward that I have to go, but I gently inform him Rose wants to visit. He begrudgingly agrees, knowing that it may be wise not to spend too many hours alone right off the bat.

We head to my car and are halfway across the garden when he stops me.

"Bella, I just have to say something."

"Yes?" His expression tells me that he has been thinking about this for a while.

"I know that as much I'd like to…I can't ask you not to see James. But will you do me a favor and not fall in love with him?"

I look at him stunned. "Did you really just ask me that?"

"I know, I know…" He holds up his hands in surrender. "I just don't want you to re-bound into a relationship with him."

"Edward, to rebound into a relationship you would have to have been in a relationship to rebound from."

He seems to ignore my logic. "Besides, Bella, you don't know. You could still be really attracted to me and just not know it."

"Really? So now I am attracted to you and am too dim to know it? You are batting a thousand here, bucko."

"There is only one way you could know for sure. I think you should know, don't you, before you continue to date James?"

"One way?"

"Yes. Kiss me, Bella. I promise I won't touch you…look, hands free!" He tucks his hands into his back pockets. "Just one little kiss!"

I can't believe he is messing with me like this. But the fire in his eyes, the sweet smile on his face, is more than I can overcome. I take a step towards him.

"So if I feel nothing than that's it…we will agree to be friends with no complications. And I can friggin' marry James if I so choose."

He makes a face at the last part of my comment but nods his head in agreement anyway.

I bite my lip as I step towards him. One kiss, one kiss…I close my eyes as I edge closer and closer, and when our lips meet they soften and meld together as if they had just parted. We kiss languidly, sensuously-our tongues meeting in an erotic dance. He gently bites my bottom lip before I press my lips even harder against his as the current surges through me, practically knocking me over.

_Oh my God._ I am on fire. One of my hands runs along his shoulder and then slides behind his neck, pulling him closer. My other hand winds into his hair and tugs on it passionately. He moans my name over and over as the kiss intensifies, and I am lost in his sweet mouth, his lips making me a traitor against my instinctive logic and reason.

When I finally pull away to gasp for air, the expression on his face is victorious. He knows he gambled big and won. _Damn him. He owns me._ I can fight it and avoid him all I like, but that cold hard fact will rise through the bullshit every time.

At least he has the decency not to gloat as he watches me calculate my next move. Just to make it clear that he still has a lot to prove, I give him the evil eye before I lightly punch him in the shoulder and run for my car. But even as I flee I can feel his joy follow me all the way home.

.

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**Do you believe that love can heal all? I do.  
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**Thanks for reading...**


	30. Chapter 30  It Must Be Magic

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

**Thanks to Mr. Alistair this was my toughest chapter yet and my beta TwilightZoner's patience was much appreciated.**

**Here, dear reader is your final James warning...**

**This one's for you Azu.**

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.  
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**Work of Art / Chapter Thirty / It Must Be Magic **

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By Monday night, the circus that my life has become has rolled into town with exciting and daring acts promised for all that observe.

Due to the distraction created by my opposite sex entanglements, I manage to do two major fuck-ups at work in one day. Emmett gallantly covers me for the client screw-up because he knows it would push Carlisle over the edge. I love Emmett, but that is just wrong that he has to always be the big brother saving my ass.

Next, while working on the press, I start feeding prints to Jacob upside down and ruin fifteen images before we realize what I've done. Jacob isn't as accommodating as Emmett, and he yells at me until I cry out of frustration. There really is no excuse for such stupidity. Damn, I really need to get myself together.

When I get home from work I receive a delivery of two dozen lavender roses from James as if he has caught a whiff of Edward's intentions and he intends to head him off at the pass. He must have arranged to have them sent over the phone since he is still in New York. I'm getting the sense that it's going to be an emotional roller coaster week.

I also receive a flirty text from Edward that stirs up my anxiety, since I'm not sure how I should navigate my "friendship" with him yet. So rather than texting Edward or calling James to thank him for the roses, I decide to be immature and avoid everyone. When Alice gets home from work she's completely wound up from a impossible deadline, so we decide to really be stupid and have wine and Cheetos for dinner.

We are both pretty loaded and have that sticky Cheetos orange powder around our mouths and on our fingers when my phone rings. I look at the screen.

"James." I sigh loudly. "He's probably wondering if I got the roses."

"Oh, answer it, you big baby," Alice slurs.

I roll my eyes, tap my screen and launch right into the conversation. "James…thank you sooooo much for the beautiful roses. I love them."

"I'm glad, Bella. Are you okay? You sound a little funny."

"I'm a little tipsy," I admit as I sway on the couch. "Alice and I both had a shitty day so we decided to have wine…with Cheetos for dinner."

"I'm sorry you didn't have a good day. But Cheetos aren't food, baby. If I was there I would take better care of you."

"I bet you'd take care of me," I snicker. "What would you do exactly if you were here?" _Make me a taco?_ I think to myself.

_Hey, that sounds good!_

He pauses for a moment.

"Hello?"

"I'm here," he says with a dark tone to his voice. "I'll tell you what. I need to finish something up here, but I'm going to call you back in ten minutes. What are you wearing?"

"My work clothes, why?"

"I want you to put on the nightgown I got you at La Perla. Will you do that for me?"

"I guess so." In my wine-soaked state I'm a little confused as to why I need to wear a nightgown to talk on the phone.

"Great, then I will call you back, and I'll tell you what I would do if I was there. So go get ready, make yourself comfortable, and I'll call back soon."

"Kay, bye." I throw the phone down.

"What does Mr. Oopsy-daisy want?" Alice questions as she examines her toes.

"For me to put on my nightgown. Why in the hell does he want that?"

"I bet he wants to have phone sex with you, silly!"

"Whoa, I bet you're right. He sounded kinda worked up now that you mention it, and he loves to talk dirty. Damn, I don't want to have phone sex with him. I want to have real sex with Edward, but I can't because we need to be _just friends_."

My head is spinning-I need to slow down with the wine.

"Poor Bella," she shakes her head sadly. "I know, I'll pretend to be you and have phone sex with James. I'm good at it…watch it will be fun. I'll pretend he's Jasper and you can pretend he's Edward."

Ugh, no more wine for her either.

"Oh baby, baby, baby you are so hard for me!" she wails.

She is crazy in every way. I love her despite this and because of this.

"Alice, our voices aren't even close to the same. He'll know it's not me!"

"You're right, but this thing has a speaker phone…yes?" she picks it up and turns it over in her hand examining it.

"Yeah."

"Okay then, we can listen to him then I will whisper in your ear what to say."

"Oh, that is so messed up, Alice. I can't do that to him…he may not be _the one_ for me, but he's never toyed with me like that."

"I don't know, girlfriend, let's be real here…he plays like a nasty boy-I mean that Spago's handjob…damn! He'd probably really get off on ménage a trois phone sex."

I tip my head remembering Spagos. Yes, Mr. Nasty has pushed my envelope for sure.

"Oh, poor James, he is going to have hot phone sex with two sexy girls…that is soooooo horrible," she whines theatrically.

And obviously the alcohol twists my mind into believing her logic.

"Well, in that case, why don't _you_ go put on the nightgown then-it's on top of my dresser."

She stumbles off to the bedroom and comes back with it wrapped around her shoulders. It's probably just as well that she didn't put it on.

"Wow, this is gorgeous!" she purrs as she runs her hands along the silk, flips one side over her shoulder like it is a big scarf, then falls back on the couch and grabs her wine.

The phone rings less than a minute later.

"Are you ready for me, Bella, just like I asked?" From the sound of his voice I can tell he is on speaker phone.

_Oh my, he's getting right down to business._

"Yes I am," I purr playfully. Alice is grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Okay, put your phone on speaker…do you know how to do that?"

In my altered state I have to stare at the screen since I've forgotten the icon already. Finally I remember and tap it on. "Yes, can you hear me?"

"Perfectly."

Alice whispers in my ear, and I repeat her words. "I want to picture you, James. What are you wearing?"

"Well, I'm still in my suit, but I'm taking off my tie as we speak. Are you wearing the gown? I want to hear how it makes you feel."

Alice takes a handful of the nightgown in each hand and shimmies it back and forth across her back, mouthing _sexy _to me as she rolls her eyes playfully. I improvise.

"It's so lovely, James, it makes me feel beautiful…and sexy."

"Yes, you are so sexy, Bella. And I can picture you perfectly in my mind, and it's turning me on." His voice drops lower. "Run your hands over your gown while imagining that they are my hands and tell me how it feels."

I can tell Alice likes to be prompted as she feeds me her response immediately. "Oh James, the way you are touching me is making me wet." I wrinkle my nose when it hits me what I've just repeated. It sounds gross when you don't really mean it.

We hear him gasp, and then I hear the rustle of what sounds like fabric being pulled and pants being unzipped.

"Fuck baby. You are making me so hard already. I just took my cock out and it is so hard."

I press my face into my hands horrified. Even in my altered state I know this is whacked.

Alice, on the other hand, is practically panting in my ear. Evidently she has a very vivid imagination and is verbally well equipped to play her part. I take a deep unsteady breath and repeat her words. "Will you stroke it for me? What do you imagine when you hold your hard cock?"

My stomach is getting queasy.

There is a long pause before he responds. "I'm imagining that your mouth is on me."

Alice nods and takes the TV remote control off the coffee table and bobs her head over it like she is sucking feverishly. "Yes, my mouth is on you… and I'm sucking hard. Does that feel good?"

He is panting now, and I can picture his hand pumping his erection as he thrusts into his tight fist.

And something about the sound of his panting, the sharp reality of his unbridled lust, snaps me out of my drunken stupor. He may not be the man for me, but it is wrong to play with him like this. But how do I stop it without completely humiliating him?

Alice looks down at her watch and makes the motion with her hands that people in production use to say _time to speed things up_.

I say the first thing that comes into my mind.

"James, wait…Alice is knocking on my door. Let me get rid of her."

Heavy breathing. "Hurry, baby."

I find the hold button on my phone and press it, then turn to Alice. "I can't do this. I'm feeling really guilty. He may be horny, but I don't think it's just sex for him…I think he really likes me."

Alice looks sheepish. "Oh you're no fun-we're just getting him going. What do you want to do?"

I stand up quickly. "I can't tell him now…this is so messed up. I'll go into my room and finish him off. But save me some wine, I'm going to need it."

She gets up and heads to the kitchen. "Call me if you change your mind."

When my door is closed I take the phone off hold. "I'm back, James."

"Good because you know what I was just thinking? I want to fuck you now, do you want that?"

"Yes," I say trying to sound convincing.

"You are tight and so wet. I'm going to fuck you hard."

_Good Lord._ "Yes, hard. It feels so good James."

The panting gets louder and faster.

He groans loudly. "Are you close baby, cause I'm really close."

"You are going to make me cum James." I moan a few times, each time a little louder to drive the point home.

"Yes, Bella," he pants.

And because I'm a crazy I close my eyes and picture Edward's face above me, looking at me passionately, fucking me hard. Then when I embrace my pretend orgasm and I call out moaning, James is the furthest thing from my mind. He doesn't come back into my thoughts until I hear him groan, "I'm cuming, baby." He growls and I can picture his release in my mind from the night he came all over my breasts.

I wait for him to catch his breath enough to speak. I hear a rustling sound. He is probably cleaning himself up.

"How was that, Bella?"

"So good." I whisper simply. Despite my wine haze my mind is numb with guilt. "And you?"

"Mmmmm, that was the high point of this whole damn week. I've really missed you. Have you missed me?"

I realize with a start that I actually didn't miss him but I'm not going to tell him that now. "Of course I did," I fib.

"I'm not flying home until Saturday but I've made plans on Sunday for us. I can't wait to see you."

"So what are the plans for Sunday?"

I have reservations for brunch at the Peninsula in Beverly Hills, and then I thought we could spend the rest of the day there enjoying a suite."

The idea of Sunday is instantly sobering and in that moment I decide that I am going to have to come clean at brunch. It is time for a serious talk with James. There will be no brunch after-party in his suite.

Before we get off the phone he promises to call me again in a couple of days.

Everything stills and is quiet. I lay back on my bed and I pull my blanket of shame over me until my eyes are covered and my breathing labored from the trapped air.

Suddenly my door opens. Alice is in the hallway with a goofy smile on her face, scribbling on a piece of paper and then I notice she holds something up. She has scored us. "Execution 9.3, Creativity 9.7, Overall Score 9.5.

Even though I know she is trying to crash my pity party with humor, I shake my head and roll my eyes at her. Well, I'm glad she is enjoying this because I fear my poor judgment will haunt me for a long time.

. ..~*~..

When I wake my ragged self up the next morning I remember Edward's text before my escapades, and I wonder if he will try to reach me again today. Sure enough, he calls me first thing and asks me to join him for lunch since he is going to be in town. Despite my nasty hangover and lingering guilt, I meet him at Kings Road Café where we get an outside table. He is in a great mood, and he shows me studies he is making for his new series of paintings. His ideas incorporate the paintings we bought from the thrift stores, and I love seeing how they are beginning to materialize.

He asks about the gallery, and I skip sharing my Monday screw-up stories and instead tell him about the P.R. I've been doing for Seth's upcoming show. He hangs on my every word, seemingly just as interested in what I'm doing as I am to hear about him.

Finally, he confides to me that he has his first non-phone and in-person session today with his therapist, Cara. I know he is nervous, but I find it encouraging that he seems to be intent on staying on track. I give him a big hug before I hurry back to the gallery.

That night a sober Alice reminds me about the fundraising party at Jasper's parents on Saturday. I realize that I better start figuring out what I'm going to wear since this event is formal. As we start strategizing over my options, I remember a vintage Valentino dress Esme had loaned me when I attended a similar event with Emmett several years ago. I decide to ask her if it would be possible to borrow it again. Alice already spent the weekend shopping and has something on hold at Barney's while she figures out how she is going to pay for it.

At our team meeting the following morning, Carlisle gives Jacob and me a revised deadline to get Edward's print done. Afterwards we sit down and plan that we will have to run five colors a day to get it finished in time. I promise Jacob that I will give him all the time he needs in the studio. Meanwhile, Jasper calls me in a very good mood.

"Hey, Jasper. How are you doing?"

"Pretty damn good, Bella, thanks to you."

I'm hoping he isn't being sarcastic. "Why's that?"

"It's Edward. I don't know what magic spell you cast over him but I have never seen him this motivated and happy. It's just fantastic. I'll be honest, I didn't know what he would be like after his mini-breakdown but he is like a new man."

"Well, don't give me credit for that Jasper. You can thank his Aunt Ann who took care of him and got him back on his feet…but most of all Edward should get the credit. I think he is really motivated to make his life better."

"And you have nothing to do with that?" he fishes.

"I don't think so." I'm not sure if I'm denying my effect on him more for Jasper's benefit or mine.

"Uh-huh, sure," he teases me. "If that's how you want to play it, that's okay. But I still want to thank you at the very least for bringing him home. I feel like we can put all the dark stuff behind us and the future looks bright."

"Well, I'll agree with you on that."

"I'll see you Saturday, Bella. You are our _extra_-special guest after all."

.. ~*~..

On Thursday night, Edward calls around nine-thirty.

"Are you impressed?" he asks me.

"You always impress me, Edward. Now tell me what I'm impressed with this time."

"That I waited almost two whole days to call you. My shrink has me working on some behavioral therapy due to her concern for my obsessive preoccupation with you."

_Yikes, he's really becoming quite forthcoming._ "Well, then I am impressed, I guess. You're kidding, right?"

"Sort of. Anyway, how are things?"

"I spent the whole day working on your print with Jacob. It's really looking good. And I talked to Jasper yesterday, and he waxed poetic about you."

"Yeah, he's in love with me again."

"Well, considering that he is your manager, that's probably a good thing."

"I keep meaning to ask you…are you guys going to Art Santa Fe next month?"

"I know Carlisle was planning on it, but I'm not sure if he taking me or not. I should ask him now that it is less than a month away. How about you?"

"We will be there. I know Rose and Sam are coming too. It's a really good show, and I love Santa Fe. You should convince Carlisle to let you come. We could have so much fun. It's very casual-not a big scene like New York."

I smile at the thought of exploring Santa Fe with Edward, Rose and Sam. And then I think about all of us in New York, and it is stunning to realize how much has changed in such a short period of time.

"Edward, can I ask you something?" I think he picks up on the hesitancy in my voice. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, because it really is none of my business."

"Well, go ahead and ask, and we'll see if I want to give you an answer."

"Are you on anti-depressants or something now?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking about what Jasper said about you, and how different you seem since you've come back. I don't think there is anything wrong with it if you are."

He pauses considering my question. "Yes, I am. It took a few weeks for the effects to kick in though, so I'm just now really feeling the benefit. They are definitely helping take the edge off."

"That's good-I'm glad they're helping."

"You know I've tried them in the past and they either didn't help or they made things worse. One round turned me into a zombie. I wasn't acting crazy but I was completely flattened out…it took away all my creative energy and I couldn't stand it. This time Ann found a real good psychopharmacist who has put me on a lower dose of a new drug so it doesn't fuck with my art. I'll just have to see how it goes, 'cause I don't want to stay on this stuff forever.

"Look, I understand why you were curious about that, Bella, and for the record I'd rather have you ask a question than to wonder and never ask…but it's not just the medication. I'm also trying really hard to focus on what I care about now and have a purpose."

"Yes, a purpose," I agree.

"And I'm working really hard on being happy. It sounds crazy doesn't it-working hard to be happy. I know I need to stay away from the things that bring me down or get me off track, and spend time with the things and people that mean the most to me. And on that note, are you free Sunday?"

My heart sinks. God, I feel bad to burst his bubble when he is doing so well. "Actually I have plans on Sunday."

"Okay, well maybe next weekend." His tone is deflated, and as I feared, he gets off the phone quickly.

One step forward, two steps back.

.. ~*~..

On Friday morning Emmett calls me into his office. "Bella, you have got to see the pictures from Wednesday night. Ted and I had such a blast!"

I walk over to his laptop. "Remind me what that opening was? You go to so many that I can hardly keep up."

"I know, I live such a fabulous life!" He laughs while he clicks through the photos for me. It looks like every model and young actress in Hollywood was there. "It's that new show at MOCA, _The Collision of Art and Fashion_. It is such a great idea even if it is probably just a thinly veiled ruse to up ticket sales in this lagging economy."

I pull up a chair to look at the photos.

"Girlfriend, look at this shot of Ted with Kate Moss!"

"No way, I love her!" I lean in closer, momentarily distracted from my real concern.

My heartbeat accelerates when it dawns on me that this is Edward's dream event. Every indicator from his past would point to him being at this opening and being photographed with at least a few models or actresses.

"So, did you see Edward there?" I ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Funny you should mention Edward. I was looking for him since I knew he was back, and I was sure he would be there. But I never saw him….not even in the event photos. Here, let's finish looking through this batch to see if we can find him."

The anxiety as he clicks on each photo is indescribable. I am convinced as every image slowly opens up on the screen that he will be revealed with his arm around some beautiful creature. But by the time we got to the end of the website's post on the event, it was clear he hadn't attended, for he certainly would have been photographed.

"Well, what do you know? Emmett clucked. "The Romeo of the art world has been put out to pasture."

"One night off does not a retired art-whore pursuer make," I point out to him, trying to keep myself from feeling too hopeful.

"I suppose you are right," he concedes."But if there was ever a party _the old Edward_ would have been the life of, this was it. The pretty ladies were drinking heavily and dancing on the tables by the end of the evening. If I were straight and single, I would have had my choice of delicacies. It would have been better than a Vegas buffet."

As I walk back to the printing studio I feel a complicated mixture of emotions-the first is pride that Edward avoided a party that would have encouraged all the wrong behavior for him. If that was a test, he passed with flying colors. Knowing that makes me feel even worse for letting him down about Sunday. I decide that I'm going to think of something special for us to do next week.

On the way home from work I notice a striking billboard and it gives me an idea. I fire up my laptop as soon as I get home.

.

_To: Edward Masen_

_Re: Question of the Day_

_Are you a Harry Potter fan?_

A few minutes later I get a response.

.

_From: Edward Potter_

_Re: My Occlumency skills must have worked because I blocked your mind from knowing that I was captain of the Quidditch team during my brief stint at Hogwarts. _

_Of course I'm a fan. How can you be a creative person and not appreciate Harry Potter?_

_Why do you ask, my little muggle?_

I laugh with delight…who would have pegged Edward as a Harry Potter fan? As if I needed yet another reason to like him.

.

_From: Isabella Weasley_

_Re: Hogwarts…in your dreams…you big muggle you!_

_So you think you are using Occlumency against me?...Don't get Snape-ish with me, Mister._

_The reason I asked is that I'm loonier than Luna Lovegood for Harry Potter, and the film for book six is opening next Wednesday. I was thinking of casting a spell on you and dragging you to the first showing—the midnight show. It would be my treat. I'll even splurge for the chocolate frogs and butter beer._

_._

_From: The big muggle with the magic touch_

_Re: looking for my wand_

_You are the fire in my goblet, baby. If you can cast a spell on me, can I cast one on you? _

_As for our movie, shall we travel via broomsticks, or can I pick you up in my enchanted car?_

_._

_From: the little muggle with big ideas_

_Re: If we can't ride the Hogwarts Express_

…_then by all means, the enchanted car. I promise not to wear my robes, and I'll try to keep the fan-girl stuff to a minimum._

_._

When we finally sign off I am happy that my idea worked out. An escape-type movie is just what we need.

_Perfect,_ I think as I close my laptop.

. ~*~

Alice and I have a complicated day planned for Saturday, starting with manicure and pedicures first thing in the morning. From there we are going to make a final stop at the Designer Resale store to see if Alice can find a less expensive dress, and if not we will head over to Barneys for her to spend the big bucks for the dress she has on hold. Our last stop will be the hair salon to turn us into the glamorous creatures we can only hope to be.

The nail salon takes extra long because we sure as hell can't go clothes shopping with wet fingernails. So we sit like idiots with our hands in those little mini-driers until we are assured we won't be leaving streaks of scarlet nail polish on evening gowns.

At first the Designer Resale store looks like a waste of time. Every evening gown they have in the current selection is either too big, too long or just too over-the-top. We are getting ready to leave when I spot a dark green velvet gown hanging on the rack near the dressing room of clothes to be put back in stock. It has a very fitted bodice with a high back, which will thankfully cover the Tinkerbell tatoo, and then a tastefully low-cut neckline. The bottom is just full enough to be able to walk easily. The best part is that it is on sale and looks to be Alice's size.

"Bella…this would be perfect!" Alice says excitedly. "Keep your fingers crossed that it fits." She carefully carries it into the fitting room, and I follow to help her get into it.

I gingerly unzip the dress while she strips off her clothes and then hold it up for her as she steps into it. It is made of buttery soft silk velvet, and the zipper glides up easily.

"Wow, Alice" I exclaim as she turns around. "You look gorgeous."

"Oh my God, I love this!" She swivels back and forth to examine herself at various angles. "Did you see that it is Calvin Klein Couture? This dress probably cost five grand new, and it's marked down to only $299.00! It doesn't even look like it has been worn."

"It's still a lot of money for a dress you will only wear once, but the way you look it is worth it."

"This is cheap compared to the other gown I was going to buy. Besides, Jasper says green is my best color. I'm calling Barney's right now to give up the dress they are holding. Come on, girlfriend, just for that find I'm taking you out for a really nice lunch with some of the money you just saved me!"

She picks Il Cielo on Burton Way in Beverly Hills where they have a beautiful outside patio. We order Kir royales since we are celebrating and decide to split a lemon pasta with shrimp and a chopped Italian salad.

As we talk I can tell that even though she has met them once already, Alice is very nervous about making the right impression tonight with Jasper's family. I assure her she has nothing to worry about but she still looks tense until the champagne from the Kir royale kicks in.

"So will Jasper be wearing a tux?"

"Mmmm, you know I have a thing for men in tux's Bella. I don't know how I'm going to be able to keep my hands off of him."

"Oh I agree, there is nothing better than a good looking man in a tux…especially when it is so different than how they normally dress."

"Can you picture _art boy_ in a tux?" she asks, twirling her fork in her pasta. "Maybe next year we can get him to come."

"We'll see," I respond, distracted with the picture in my head of Edward in a tux. _Good lord_…that would be my undoing.

After the bill has been paid we wind our way out of the patio. Just before we reach the valet stand we run into Rose and Edward's friend, Sam. His date is very pretty, and they look happy together.

"Hey, Sam."

"Hi, Bella, good to see you." He gives me a quick hug. "This is my girlfriend, Xio."

I smile at her and then introduce Alice.

"How's the art world treating you, Sam?"

"Pretty damn good. As a matter of fact we are here celebrating because I just came back from a great show in New York, and I sold my monumental painting."

"Congratulations! That is so exciting," I enthuse. "Do you know who bought it?"

"Yes, she actually had me over to her townhouse after it was installed. Man, what a place she has…I guess her family started Taco Bell or something…big money. Anyway her name is Heather Alistair. She is really important in the New York art community."

"Alistair?" I ask. "Is she any relation to James Alistair, the publisher of _ArtForum_? I worked with him on Edward's book."

"Oh yeah, I believe he's her husband."

_What the fuck…? _My lunch is suddenly in my throat. I grab onto Alice's arm to steady myself.

"Husband?" Alice asks jumping in. "Are you sure…maybe he is her ex? He lives in L.A., after all."

"Yeah, could be, "admits Sam. "I didn't see any sign of him, and she never mentioned him...but I know they were married at one time because I remember reading about them."

"Was she wearing a ring?" Alice lifts her left hand and wiggles her ring finger at him.

"She had on a big ol' mother of a ring, but I'm a guy…I don't remember what finger it was on!"

Xio laughs.

The blood has drained from my face, and the sidewalk is spinning.

"Alice, we are late-we've got to go," I whisper under my breath hoping she will hear me.

"Okay, well it's been great meeting you, but Bella and I are late so we are going to head out now."

There is a flurry of goodbyes before I stumble to the valet stand.

_No, no, no, no, no!_ The little lady in my head is screaming at the top of her lungs. Her hair is standing straight up and her eyes are bugging out like a character in a Tim Burton movie.

Alice can tell I'm about to lose it, and she takes a strong authoritative stand with me as we get in the car. "Now, Bella calm down. You have no reason to think he is still married to her. He doesn't wear a wedding ring, he lives here, he has never mentioned her…don't you think if he were still married Edward or Carlisle or Rose would know about it?"

I take a deep breath. Maybe she's right. I should at least talk to him before I have my nervous breakdown. I drag my cell phone out of my bag, but Alice snatches it out of my hand.

"Not yet, Bella! You need to calm down first and tell me what you are going to say before I give the phone back to you."

My stomach is churning, and I double over before taking a series of deep breathes. I turn and look out the side window as Alice speeds along. _Why in the hell is my life so complicated? Why can't I just find a nice boy to date like Alice did…someone who isn't a sex-obsessed philanderer or crazy high-strung artist? I'm going to join a goddamn convent and never look at another man._

_Yeah, right._

More deep breaths. I focus on finding my center, whatever the hell that is supposed to be.

"Okay Alice, I'm ready. Give me my phone."

"What are you going to say?"

"Just that I need to talk to him. I'll be really sweet, I promise. I don't want to tip him off on the phone if the news is bad because I need to look in his eyes when he tells me, either way."

Alice studies me carefully and then slowly hands the phone back to me.

"Okay, sweet and calm…"

My hands are shaking as I run my fingers over my iPhone, bringing his number up on my contact list. I take another breath and hit send. The call goes directly to voicemail, which doesn't surprise me since he is probably still on the plane to L.A. It takes friggin' forever for the message prompt. Despite my very dark mood edged with hysteria, I pull out my sweetest, sexiest voice.

"Hi James, it's Bella. I'm really looking forward to seeing you. Anyway, something important has come up that I would love to hear your thoughts on. It would be great if you could call me as soon as you get in. I'll be waiting. Bye, handsome."

Alice looks over at me with steely eyes and nods her head. _Mission accomplished._ And in that moment I am assured that if James has played me, she will be right by my side ready to take the fucker down.

.

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**I'm going to go grab my pal Bella now so we can go hide. I suspect this round of reviews may be tough. Hang in there though art lovers, next chapter is a doozy and like Bella-you may need your strength.**

**I will post a teaser for Chapter 31 on the Forum Tuesday. I'll leave a twitter alert when it goes up.**

**join us on the Work of Art forum http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034**

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**Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway**


	31. Chapter 31  The Other Woman

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.

**_Thank you to my beta TwilightZoner_**

**Real Life-true story…**_I read online last week (several places) that Rob and Kristen spent the weekend of August 20__th__ at the Ojai Valley Inn in the little town of Ojai, California. I have never heard of celebrities visiting Ojai, let alone R & K. Not to be the Starbucks Psychic or anything but __that is the exact same weekend__ that my Bella and Edward were in Ojai. The odds of that happening are so small I can't even fathom it. Pretty cool…don't you think?_

_

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**Work of Art / Chapter Thirty-One / The Other Woman**

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On the way to the hair salon Alice starts advising me on my situation.

"You said James is on a plane, right?"

I nod. "I know he often takes the later flights from New York."

"So you probably won't hear from him until late at best. And you are supposed to see him tomorrow anyway. This is a conversation you need to have in person."

I nod in agreement. "Maybe I shouldn't have left that message?" My stomach churns with a renewed vigor.

"No, it's okay. That message didn't give anything away. But you need to figure out a way to get your mind off it until then. As I said earlier, there is a good chance that he isn't married, and if that's the case you don't want to make yourself sick and ruin your whole evening over it."

_Damn,_ I had managed to push tonight's event out of my head. It's the last thing I want to do now. As I start to plot for how to get out of going the anger starts setting in. Alice is right-why should I let this potential mess ruin my evening and take over my mind? I decide to pull myself up by my bootstraps and have a good time tonight if it's the last thing I do. I can face the real or imagined firestorm tomorrow.

Luckily my dashing hairdresser, Leo, senses my anxiety, and between his pampering nature and colorful stories, the ghost of James' ex-wife/wife begins to evaporate in the blow-dried air. Leo is a cross between Vidal Sassoon and the character Warren Beatty played in the movie _Shampoo_. He is the only straight hairdresser in West Hollywood and he's very British and ambitious, but most importantly, he loves…I mean_ loves_ women.

He gives me a sexy Lana Turner style with a deep side part and then soft waves falling around my face and shoulders. He softly growls at me as he holds up the mirror for my final review. _God, I love that man_. By the time we leave I'm feeling two hundred percent better.

Alice and I have never gone to this type of event together, so when we get home the bonding over grooming becomes an event in itself. We lay out our dresses and accessories then start in on our make-up. By the time we zip each other up in our gowns we look pretty damn good. Alice helps me put on the diamond pendant necklace and earrings Esme also loaned me for the evening.

I go over to the full-length mirror for a final check. Esme's vintage Valentino dress fits me like a glove. It is a shade of claret, not quite burgundy, with a band of tiny glass beads wrapping around my torso at the bust and waistline. The back is cut low, and the bottom half is a gathering of the lightest, most fluid chiffon. As I move around the apartment it swirls at my feet.

We hear a knock, and Alice pulls open the front door to reveal Jasper who looks very handsome in his tux.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says gently as he moves towards Alice with that look in his eyes. "You are breathtaking."

"So are you," she replies as he wraps his arms around her and kisses her gently. When he pulls back she twirls around for him. "Do you like the dress? Bella found it for me."

"It's perfect," he confirms, smiling.

"Say hi to Bella," she coaxes, gesturing over to me. "Doesn't she look great?"

He nods his head at me. "Hey, Bella. You look really nice. I didn't mean to ignore you, but you know I only have eyes for my baby."

"As it should be," I insist smiling. "I'm ready when you guys are."

"Shall we?" Jasper gestures to the door. So Alice and I grab our evening clutches and wraps and step outside. On the porch, Alice suddenly stops and turns around to give me a hug.

"What's that for?"

"I'm really proud of you for still coming with us…and you look fantastic by the way."

"Gee thanks, Alice. I'm proud of me too, but you can bet I'm going to start Googling James and his ex as soon as we get home from this shindig. Meanwhile though, I'm going to do my best to push it out of my mind and have a good time."

"Yes, let's have a good time," she agrees as we carefully navigate our way down the stairs in our high heels and long skirts.

.

During the drive to Pasadena Jasper's text prompt goes off on his phone, and he has Alice read it to him.

"It's from Edward," she says as she opens the text. "All it says is _painting is on its way_. What does that mean?"

"Every year Edward gives us a painting to raise money for our charity. It is always one of the highlights of the auction. Anyway, when he went to the framer to pick up the piece earlier they had scratched the painting, so he had to repair it. Ideally, it should have been here hours ago."

"Here he was doing such a nice thing, and it's turned into a hassle," Alice laments.

"Exactly, " Jasper agrees. "I've got to hand it to him, he always comes through for us with the art for this fundraiser, so I'm not going to complain if it's a little late."

Jasper pulls off the first exit in Pasadena and drives into the elite neighborhood of San Marino which is one of the wealthiest areas of Los Angeles. The first thing I notice is that the homes are older and quite grand, set on huge pieces of property by L.A. standards. We pull up to the valet, and I am begin realizing the magnitude of Jasper's parents' wealth and how it must be intimidating to Alice. The sprawling Mediterranean estate has a grand entrance, huge picture windows trimmed with hand-painted Italian tile, and carved wooden Juliet balconies off several of the upstairs rooms. I reach over and give her a squeeze as we walk to the reception area under the portico. She gives me a wide-eyed look, adding, "I know…crazy huh?"

The front lawn leading up to the house is the size of a football field, with every inch of the property meticulously landscaped. In preparation for the event, almost every tree is strung with twinkling white lights. After Jasper checks us in we follow the other guests to the back patio. _Wow, they must have an army of gardeners._ There is a huge rolling lawn with a dramatically lit pool and fountain on the far end. The tennis court on the right has been set up with a dance floor and stage for the band scheduled to play later. There is also a massive patio dotted with imported pots filled with flowers and miniature fruit trees that runs from one end of the house to the other. Besides the various sitting areas, including an outside living room complete with fireplace, dozens of tables with chairs and several bars have been layered in for the event. A jazz quartet's live music floats past us.

Jasper heads over to the bar to get our drinks as Alice and I wander around the tiled patio trying to corner the waiters with the trays of fancy hors d'oeuvres. We score an eggplant-gorgonzola crostini, two bacon wrapped scallops, and a mushroom stuffed with sausage and Romano cheese before Jasper finally makes it back over with our drinks.

"Where were you?" Alice asks a bit indignantly.

"I can't go ten feet here without running into someone I know. Let's just stay together from now on. That way I can also introduce you to everyone. There are a lot of family friends here."

I can't tell if Alice is happy about that idea or not until three good looking young men in tuxes walk over to say hello to Jasper and she looks newly inspired. Evidently they all went to private school together, and Jasper introduces us to Richard, Dylan and a tall Swede named Rodger. They are all clever and charming, and before you know it Alice is telling stories about Jasper and they are all gathered around her laughing. If I didn't know better I'd swear I was standing in the middle of a Ralph Lauren advertisement.

As Alice continues, I notice that Rodger keeps checking me out, but just as he turns towards me starting to ask me something the shorter one named Dylan questions loudly, "Who let him in?" as he looks off into the distance.

We all turn to see where he is focused, and my heart skips a beat when I see Edward in his leather jacket and paint splattered jeans moving towards us with a framed painting in his arms. He looks stressed and angry, his eyes fixed on the tall Swede who is still trying to get my attention. By the time he reaches us we all stop talking, and there is an awkward moment until Jasper finally speaks up.

"Great…the painting," he says as he reaches for the artwork in Edward's hand. "Man, I didn't think you were going to be the one who drove it all the way out here. You should have let me know; I would have had someone come get it."

"It's all right," Edward responds as his eyes drift over to me. I watch his gaze move across me-taking it all in, the dress, the make-up, the hair. His eyes finally meet mine, and I can feel his desire rising off him like steam above a boiling kettle. He gives the Swede a threatening look, and Rodger takes a step back.

"I'm going to take it over to the auction area," Jasper announces, and Alice turns to join him. "Hey Edward, thanks a lot for bringing it all the way over here. You know it is going to raise a lot of money tonight."

Edward's eyes are still on me, but he nods his head.

As he approaches closer the Ralph Lauren boys take the hint and move away, heading towards the bar.

"Wow, Bella, you look gorgeous," he says in a low voice.

I smile happily at him. "Thanks."

"I didn't know you were coming." Suddenly his eyes get very dark. "Who are you here with? Did you come with James?"

"No, I'm dateless. I came with Alice and Jasper." I look over to the tennis court where the band is setting up on the stage. "Why don't you stay and hang out with me? I'd really like to dance tonight."

He chuckles, waving his hand up from his old jeans to his leather jacket. "I don't think I'm dressed appropriately. Not that I care, but Jasper's parents would be horrified."

"Okay, I will just have to find some other good looking young man to dance with me." I tease him, and I take a step towards Rodger who is still watching me from the nearby bar.

He grabs my wrist and pulls me back gently, but his eyes look dark again. "Well, maybe I can stay for a while."

"Oh good…besides you are an artist contributing to their event, so you can get away with this look." I step towards him, grabbing the collar of his jacket, and kiss him on the cheek. "My night just got a whole lot better."

He takes a deep breath and gives me an intense look. "Do you have any idea what you are doing to me?"

But before I can answer a waiter steps up to us with a tray of brie and mango quesadillas. For some reason this waiter feels the need to explain this particular hors d'oeuvre in great detail which effectively deflates our moment. After we each take a piece, Edward begins to tell me about the fiasco at the framer and how the painting almost didn't make the event.

A couple of minutes later Alice and Jasper rejoin us. "Doesn't Bella look beautiful?" Alice asks Edward. Evidently, tonight she is my one-woman cheering squad.

"Mmmmmm" he replies, smiling at me. "But she's always beautiful to me."

Jasper, seemingly distracted, is looking over our heads searching through the crowd.

"Are you looking for someone, babe?" Alice asks.

"Yeah, I want us to say hello to my parents and introduce Bella." His eyes wander a bit more and then he pauses. "Hey, is that James over there?"

My stomach curls up into a fist, and I'm praying that Jasper is wrong. I really, really don't want to see James right now. But despite this panic I join the others in turning around to see if indeed Jasper is right.

Since every man but Edward is wearing a tux, from a distance it could be easy to misidentify one tall man with sandy-blonde hair from another. But even though he is standing sideways so we only see his profile, James' tortoise shell glasses immediately give him away.

To my great irritation, Alice asks, "Who's the woman he's with?" I guess knowing what she does about my situation means she can't help herself. We all continue to stare now, examining the middle-aged woman who has her arm linked with his. She is facing our direction so we have a clearer view. Attractive, although not overtly so, she is gazing warmly at James. She is elegantly dressed in a black strapless dress with a short beaded jacket, and even from this far away I notice a very large diamond on her ring finger. I am so stunned to see the materialization of my worst nightmare that I feel myself float out of my body and hover just over the scene.

Suddenly the woman seems to sense that four sets of eyes are staring at her, and she looks up at us confused. But when her eyes move across us they freeze on me, and I sense the wheels turning in her head and see her expression darken. My breath is now shallow, and I can't feel my hands or feet.

Alice steps quickly steps in front of us, blocking our view. "Jasper, could you show us the auction items inside?" she asks, her voice slightly edged with panic. She gives him a push and he turns towards the house. Edward slips his arm around my waist and leads me to follow them. He is watching me carefully, and although he doesn't say anything he senses something is very wrong.

I don't even remember walking into the house where the great room has been emptied of furniture and is now the auction viewing room. Everything is swirling in slow motion. Even the sounds blend together in an unrecognizable way. Alice appears to be waiting for a cue from me while trying to figure out what she should do. She chatters nonstop, watching me carefully as they examine tables filled with picnic baskets of expensive wine with tickets for Hollywood Bowl box seats, gift certificates for ski trips to Aspen, and designer jewelry. At one point the woman in charge of the auction asks Jasper for help with an issue, and so he and Alice turn away for a moment.

Before Alice can notice, Edward seizes the opportunity for us to be alone and away from the party and leads me to the formal living room in the front of the house. This room is huge too, like those showplaces in 1940s movies where the couples lounge in evening gowns having cocktails before dinner. We move towards the sitting area near the massive fireplace where there is a collection of antique chairs and a pair of couches upholstered in raw silk. The room is softly lit by a collection of Murano chandeliers. All the colors surrounding me are muted-burnished silvers, pales blues and beiges-providing a sharp contrast to the panic of red coloring my mind.

"Are you okay?" he asks, gazing at me with concern on his face.

I look up at him, wondering if I should tell him what is going on, when I suddenly sense that we are not alone. I look over to the doorway and there she is….my usher leading me to my front row seat of the horror film that is my life. It is clear the elegant woman with the big ring intends to speak to me. _Fucking-A._

_Ladies and gentleman, the film has started. I hope you all have gotten your popcorn and soda already, because you aren't going to want to miss a minute of this show._

I turn towards Edward and look him in the eye with the most seriousness he has ever sensed from me. "Can I have a moment? I need to speak with her."

He looks over at the woman and then back at me. "Are you sure?"

I nod silently.

"Okay, I will be waiting for you in there." He points back towards the auction room and gives my hand a squeeze before he walks past her and shuts the door.

"Are you Bella?" she asks simply, quietly.

I nod. "And you are…?"

"Heather Alistair, James' wife." She watches me carefully as a whimper escapes from my lips, and I wrap my arms around my torso, curling inwards.

"How do you know who I am?"

"Oh, I make it my business to know who my husband's playthings are." She pauses and considers me carefully.

"You didn't know about me?" she asks next. Her tone is eerily patient.

"No, I had no idea…well until this afternoon. I ran into an acquaintance of mine today who had met you, and he thought James may be married but he wasn't certain. I almost didn't come tonight I was so upset-I was trying to find out for sure."

"Hmmm…James is very clever at hiding things."

"Oh God. I would have never, ever…if I'd known. I'm so sorry." The tears start to stream down my face as the pain and regret tears through me. "I will never see him again."

"Yes, well you aren't the first one he has fooled. He tends to pick young innocents for that very reason. But he is normally much more discreet. I have no idea why he was sloppier with you. I mean Spagos…really. I have friends all over this city."

I think I'm going to pass out as I consider the fact that I am one of many. And someone saw us at Spagos? What exactly did they see? This is all just too much. I grab the edge of the couch to steady myself.

"When I finally confronted him after I had you followed to Santa Barbara, he promised me that it would stop. But then that lewd sex phone call, even my private eye was embarrassed. He appears to be completely out of control."

I'm about to die. Where is the Twilight Zone when you need it? Can a hole just open up in this lovely antique Persian rug so I can jump through the floor and disappear? I have never been so horrifyingly humiliated in my life.

She looks at me carefully. "Bella, I would like to believe that you are a smart girl and are going to do the right thing. But I must assure you that if I find any further indication that you are with my James, and believe me I will know…then I will have to make things uncomfortable for you. It has come to my attention that you desire a career in the art world. I hope you comprehend the kind of people I know. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes," I sob before my knees start to give out, and I slide down onto the couch.

"Very well. I think that is all then. Enjoy the party." She pivots on her expensive heel, opens the door and walks away, disappearing into the bustle of the auction room.

My face falls into my hands as I try to prevent the tears from falling onto Esme's dress. A moment later Edward is at my side.

"Bella? Bella, what is it? What happened?" The concern in his voice makes me cry harder.

"I need to leave now. Can you take me home? Please?"

"Of course, let's go." He extends his hand down to help me up.

"Damn." It occurs to me that we have to let Alice and Jasper know we are leaving. "Edward, please do me a favor. Please go tell Alice that it was true, and I am all right but you are taking me home now, and I will talk to her tomorrow. Can you do that?"

"Of course," he replies, his expression revealing that between the sighting in the patio, my cryptic message, and the meeting with the woman, he is getting a strong idea of what is going on. He quickly charges into the next room to start searching for Alice. I flop my head on the back of the couch and stare up at the fresco on the ceiling. I just can't believe that this is happening.

But of course, this little break was just intermission, because in the next moment I realize the second act has begun.

"Bella," James says solemnly after shutting the door firmly behind him.

"Oh God, no," I cry out, and drop my face back into my hands, effectively blocking out my vision of him. "Get the fuck away from me James-I don't want to talk to you."

I hear footsteps moving closer and then he drops down on the couch next to me. "Bella." There is pain in his voice, but it doesn't change the fact that I want to kill him or at the very least hurt him badly.

"Bella, it's not what it seems. I need to explain," he pleads.

I lift my head up, and I can feel the rage burning across my face. "Explain what? That you are fucking married? This is so cliché and tacky that I can't even believe it. Were you going to share that information with me at some point?"

"I know this looks bad, but you need to understand how I feel about you…"

I cut him off. "It doesn't matter how you feel about me, James. Right now what I am dealing with is how your wife feels about me. With good reason she thinks I am a whore, and she is ready to stomp out my career before it has even begun."

"I won't let her do that," he answers fiercely.

"Oh, that makes me feel so much better. I have made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I have never gone after someone's man, and now I've fucked around with someone's husband. That makes me the very definition of everything I hate."

I'm just getting wound up. I can feel my hatred for him take shape, and I am a mythic ancient warrior pulling out a sword for battle.

"You are a fucking liar and a cheat, and I feel like the biggest idiot because I was so easily seduced by you. I am so pathetic because I ate up the attention without ever understanding what was at stake. The only person I hate more than you right now is myself."

He reaches over and puts his hand on my shoulder. "No, baby, please don't say that."

I leap up off the couch in horror. "Don't you fucking touch me! Get away from me!"

As I turn to flee I look over and realize that the door to the auction room is open again. Edward is in the doorway and appears ready to lunge forward. I have no idea how long he has been there. The only thing that is certain is the look of fury on his face.

This is all just too much for me. I am humiliated beyond redemption. Despite my long gown and high heels I practically sprint for the door leading to the entry hall for the house, the wine colored layers of my evening gown elegantly cascading behind me. All I can think about is getting away from everyone and somehow disappearing into the night.

Unfortunately, James is right on my tail. He grabs my arm and pulls me back hard, and I stumble into him. "Bella, wait, you have got to let me explain."

I turn to shove him, but before I can Edward grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him away from me with such force that James almost falls backwards onto the granite floor.

"Get your goddamn hands off of her, Alistair!" he roars.

James turns back to Edward. "This is none of your business, Masen. Get the fuck away from us-I need to talk to Bella."

"Over my dead body. Can't you see, _asshole, _that she is done talking to you?"

But James is evidently pathologically persistent, or a kind of desperation has overtaken his senses, because he steps forward and grabs me again.

"Bella…baby…"

I cry out in pain, and a second later there is a surge of fierce adrenalin that explodes around me. My arm is yanked hard as James is ripped away from me and hurled against the wall. I look up to see Edward with his hands wrapped around James' throat as he has him pinned against the elegant embossed wallpaper. The crystal chandelier above us is swaying with the impact.

"I'm going to fucking smash your face in if you don't get away from us now," Edward growls. From the wild look in his eyes there is no doubt that he means what he's saying.

"And I will ruin you Edward…kiss your art career goodbye," James taunts as he gasps for air.

"Fuck you, James. I don't care what you do to me, but if you fuck with Bella again I will take you down."

Edward presses harder on his neck, and I can see James is turning purple. I momentarily come to my senses, grab onto Edward's arm, and frantically beg him, "Edward…please…he's not worth it…please get me out of here."

He looks down at me, sees my ravaged face, and regretfully releases James before wrapping his arm over my shoulder. As he quickly moves me towards the intricately carved front door, I feel myself kick something on the floor that careens into the wall, and right before we pass through the threshold I look down and realize that it is James' tortoise shell glasses spinning on the floor. I close my eyes and burrow into Edward's shoulder as he rushes us out into the night, and in its darkness, all the emptiness it holds.

.

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	32. Chapter 32  The Aftermath

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**Work of Art / Chapter Thirty-Two / The Aftermath **

_I wouldn't want to belong to a club that would have me as a member. _~Groucho Marx

.

Although my eyes are wedged shut and I am curled against my locked door, I gradually get a sense that we are going way too fast on the freeway. I open my eyes and turn to see Edward gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are white. I peer over to the speedometer and note that we are going over ninety miles an hour in a sixty-five mile zone. He clearly hasn't calmed down from the adrenaline surge he had protecting me from James. Despite my pathetic state, I feel a wave of gratitude for how he has taken care of me. I finally break through the wall of silence that has been between us since he tore his car away from the valet stand.

"Edward, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there for me back there. As horrified as I am that you had to see all of that, thank God you were there. I will always be grateful to you for looking out for me." I take a deep breath and finish by quietly whispering, "Thank you."

He doesn't say anything yet but I can see his expression soften slightly. Then, without removing his eyes from the road, he slows down a little, reaches over and grabs my hand, gives it a squeeze, and then lets it go again. For that brief moment his warmth makes me feel hopeful that our friendship is still strong.

I turn and look out the window for a while. The freeway lights shoot by in a long streaky blur. I finally allow the wheels to start grinding in my head and pieces start to magically fit together in this jigsaw puzzle of my times with James. The voice in my head starts taunting me.

_Of course, you stupid girl…the signs were there if you had just paid more attention_. _He always set it up so that he was calling you and making plans-he was always in control. You never went to his place or knew much about his personal life. He was so smooth, a stealth predator in how he pursued you sexually…one carefully planned wicked step at a time. Why couldn't you have recognized that this was a man who played young women like it was a sport?_

I am disgusted with what I have allowed to happen to me. How will I ever trust anyone again, most of all myself? I start to cry bitter angry tears.

Then Edward's anguished voice suddenly fills the empty silence of the car.

"Were you falling in love with him, Bella?" I see his body bow as he asks the question, as if he has been slammed in the stomach with an imaginary fist.

"No!" I insist sharply in between sobs.

"I'm sorry, but I have to wonder since you are so devastated by all of this."

"Believe me, that's not why I am so upset. The only thing I ever loved was how he treated me, but now I know it was all a sham."

I hear him exhale a long sigh of relief.

"I should have known. I should have been more careful. My dad would be so disappointed with me, Edward," I whisper and the tears start again. This time when he reaches for me he takes my hand and doesn't let go.

I turn to look out the window once more, and we remain silent all the way home. My self-inflicted emotional flogging continues. I played with fire and got badly burned, and with each passing minute bringing a new realization, I sink lower and lower.

As he speeds along I can feel the little door in my heart slowly close and lock itself.

Finally home, Edward finds a parking space then shuts off the engine. I gather up my skirt and turn towards the door, not even able to face him because of my embarrassment. "Okay, thanks for driving me home. I really appreciate it." I lift up the handle to exit the car. I have never wanted to be inside and shut away from the world more.

"I'm coming with you." There is conviction in his words.

"Why?" I turn back and face him.

He just looks at me like I don't have any idea what is going on or what I need. I find this irritating.

"Thanks, but it really isn't necessary. I have been enough of a burden tonight. I'm going to figure out a way to knock myself out and hopefully sleep until it's time for work on Monday."

He gives me another look , opens his door, and walks around the car to open mine.

"Come on, Isabella. Let's go."

I carefully step out of the car, still aware that I can't let anything happen to Esme's dress. I lean towards Edward and hold onto the railing as we ascend the stairs to the apartment.

Once inside I make the moves to shed any reminder of where I've spent my evening. The shoes are kicked off into the back of my closet. The necklace and earrings are carefully set in the ceramic dish on my dresser. The dress, however, requires Edward's assistance to unfasten. I feel his fingers graze the top of my back before the zipper is slowly pulled down, exposing my naked back as the dress falls open. I turn around and catch the dark look in his eyes before he turns away. In another circumstance that action would have represented the promise of so much more; sadly, we are both aware of how this time it is something else entirely.

When I finally emerge from the bathroom with my make-up scrubbed off and my sweats on, Edward is in the kitchen. He has poured vodka shots into juice glasses, and I reach over and down my first hit before he can even offer it to me.

"Slow down, cowgirl," he warns as I pour myself another shot.

"Why? So I can keep my wits about me and come to my senses about all that happened tonight? I just need to forget because nothing is going to make this better, Edward, it's only going to get worse."

He rubs his face with his hands roughly. He looks exasperated. I continue my thought.

"Because I'm an idiot, I will end up with no career in the art world that I love so much. And inside I'm a bigger mess than when I arrived here five years ago. At least then I had a plan and I stuck to it. If I had just stuck to my plan…"

I down the second shot and feel the fire creep down my throat.

"So what was your plan? he asks as he downs his first shot.

"After my mom bailed on me, I made a promise to myself not make myself vulnerable to anyone, and I mean anyone. She trusted Phil-he seemed like an okay guy-and look what fucking happened to her. So I would date once in a while and even sleep with a guy if he was nice and I was really attracted to him but I wouldn't let anyone get close…get under my skin. As for the other men in my life…I allowed myself to have buddies like Jacob that I didn't sleep with. If the buddy was gay like Emmett-even better because then sex wasn't even an issue. I knew that work and personal life should be kept very separate. And when I stuck to the plan things were fine."

I pound my fists on the table to emphasize my point. Edward looks a little alarmed as I get louder.

"Fine?" He doesn't sound convinced, but I choose to ignore that.

"And then all the rules started going to hell." I pour another shot and roll it around my glass until I lift it to my lips and suck it down. The room is starting to spin a bit as I continue my tirade. I point at him accusingly.

"So I met you, and you dazzled the hell out of me. I wanted to be with you so fucking much. You must have known how much I wanted you, how much I wanted to sleep with you, and if you had wanted to-I can promise I would have done it again and again. That was the first sign that my rules were going to be broken." I cringe, realizing that the alcohol has hit me too hard, too fast, and my mouth is out of control.

Edward's face looks heated with my pronouncement. He takes the Vodka bottle and moves it to the far end of the kitchen.

I lay my head down on the table and feel the coolness of the wood on my hot cheek. Tears pool up in my eyes and then slide down sideways across my face onto the table.

He reaches over and picks up the stray napkin that is on the table and gently blots my wet cheek and the tears that have trailed over my nose.

I have had too much Vodka. I look up, and there are shimmering waves in front of him like a mirage on the desert.

"I thought you didn't want me, but James sure did. He told me I was beautiful and made me feel really wanted." A sob escapes me, and I tighten my fists. "It was that simple. I had become so motherfucking needy-it's pathetic."

"Bella," he whispers with anguish in his voice before he pulls me into his arms. "I'm here now; let me help you through this."

"I don't want any damn help." I gasp fighting him, but he holds me tighter.

"I want to go live on a fucking island all by myself and not be close to anyone again. When you let people get close you do stupid things. And when you open your heart to someone you also make yourself vulnerable to lose them…and I've lost too much already. I can't afford to lose any more."

"Okay, angel." He knows there is no point in fighting me. "We'll find you an island."

"Yeah," I moan as I curl into him.

"Can I come visit you on your island?"

"Are you teasing me?" I slur and then look up into his big green eyes. "Well, maybe you can visit."

"Good, because I will really miss you." He kisses the top of my head and then he slips his arm under my legs and lifts me up. "Come on, I think you need to lie down."

He carries me into my bedroom and gently settles me on top of my bed. He then disappears for a moment, but when he returns he has a glass of water and bottle of aspirin. I watch him pry open the bottle and then hand me two tablets.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, why would I be mad at you?"

"Because of James, because I was stupid."

"Well, I have quite a history of doing stupid things. So I wouldn't pass judgment on you for that mistake. I'll reserve all my anger for James."

"You're pretty impressive when you express your anger, you know."

He looks at me and rolls his eyes before I take the glass from him.

"Why are you here doing this?" I ask before washing down the pills.

"Because I care about you." He sits on the other half of the bed and pulls me closer. My head ends up against his chest, and he gently runs his fingers through my hair over and over. There is something about the feeling that tears me up inside, and when it hits me I start to cry even harder.

"What, Bella?" I can feel his concern in his touch.

"I miss my Mom. She used to do this to me when I was sad. I miss her so much, Edward."

"I'm sorry, angel," he whispers as he continues to stroke my head. "I'm so sorry."

I cry hard for a long while, and he stays right there with me. When I finally taper off because of exhaustion and my depleted supply of tears, he speaks up.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight? You should try to sleep."

Part of me desperately wants him to. I remember how it felt when he spooned me in Malibu after the robbery. But the other part, the girl with the closed heart, knows I need to be alone so I can start sorting through the emotional aftermath of the night.

"I think I need to be alone."

"Are you sure?"

I nod my head. So he slowly shifts me off his chest and carefully gets up before peeling back the bed covers. He pats the area where the bed is now open. "Come on, get under the covers," he coaxes.

I scoot over and settle down, watching him carefully as he tucks me in. There is such sadness in his eyes, and I feel even worse knowing that I probably brought on that melancholy. He leans down and kisses my forehead before brushing his fingertips across my cheek. "Goodnight, angel. Try to sleep. I'll call you tomorrow to check in on you, okay?"

I nod, the tears already pooling in my eyes. "Thanks, Edward. You really are wonderful you know."

He gives me a tender smile and walks quietly out of my room, closing my door behind him. I feel a surge of panic. For this past hour Edward was my anchor holding me at shore, but now that he is gone I am untethered, with nothing but the stormy sea in front of me. I curl tightly into my sheets so that my body occupies the smallest possible amount of space before I hurl myself into the darkness.

I won't resurface for days.

. ~*~.

I have the vague sensation of someone moving around my room. _Go away_, I hiss silently as I burrow further into my blankets. The blinds are then shifted, making the room brighter. _No… darker not brighter_. I am feeling angry towards my intrusive visitor. My window is pulled open, and the resulting fresh air wakes me up a bit more.

"Bella," someone chants. "Bella, wake up."

My head is finally clear enough to discern that it is Alice.

"What are you doing?" I groan. "Leave me alone."

"Well, actually, I was checking to make sure you were still alive. I've never seen you sleep this late before."

"What time is it?"

"Two p.m. Are you sick or something?"

"Sick in the head. You can leave now. I'm going to sleep some more." I roll over so I'm turned away from her.

"Bella, you need to get up. Come on. I'm going to make you something to eat."

"I'm not hungry," I grumble.

She walks out of the room and about ten minutes later comes back carrying a tray with buttered toast, a container of yogurt and a mug of herbal tea.

"Come on, sit-up," she commands.

I do as I'm told, and she lays the tray in my lap. Initially I plan to ignore the spread before me…I have no appetite. But then I realize that the sooner I eat something the sooner she will leave me alone. I bit into a corner of the toast. It has no flavor. It could be cardboard for all I care. After I've taken a couple of bites of yogurt she starts digging.

"What exactly happened when you guys disappeared? I figured from the rush Edward was in that it wasn't good."

"Well, I had a nice bonding session with James' wife."

"Oh, God, no."

"Oh yeah. I guess considering everything she was quite civil. Well, except for the part where she threatened to ruin my career."

"Fuck, no!"

"Yes, I guess she's had a lot of practice at this though. I guess fucking around outside his marriage is James' hobby, so I wasn't the first floozy she had to straighten out. Actually, what was the word she used? Oh yeah…_young innocents_…evidently that's the type James usually goes for."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Bella."

"You wouldn't have believed the humiliation. She knew all about Spagos and Santa Barbara and even our phone sex session. She probably has pictures of us on that patio with my legs wrapped around his face. I just wanted to die, I was so embarrassed and disgusted with myself when it was all thrown back at me."

"Why would you be disgusted with yourself? It's not your fault that he lied to you. You didn't know he was married."

"I didn't know he was married…but I should have realized that something was up. Did I really need attention that badly that I would offer myself on a silver platter to a wolf? I am pathetic."

"Oh Bella, please don't say that. Don't let him do this to you." She pauses and then continues by asking, "So Edward took you home then?"

"Oh no, that was just the beginning of the fun. Then James paid me a visit while Edward was looking for you."

"What did the fucker want?"

"He was spewing some crap like _it's not what it seems _and_ I have to understand how he feels about me.._.blah, blah, blah. He was actually trying to convince me to stay with him while his wife was probably out there bidding on a romantic weekend for them at the auction. I wanted to vomit all over him.

"No fucking way."

"Yes, way…so I try to get away from him, and the asshole grabs me hard, and then it was like I was in a movie. Edward comes charging in and rips James off of me, throws him against the wall, and starts to choke him. I swear if I hadn't stopped him I think Edward would have killed him."

"I'm sorry, but that is so fucking hot."

"Well, at that moment it was so fucking frightening. I've never seen such a display of testosterone up close. But as soon as I got him to focus back on me he rushed me out of the house and got me home."

"Edward…our hero!"

"He was definitely my hero last night. I don't know what I would have done without him. And he was really sweet trying to take care of me when we got back here. He let me get drunk and rant and cry and then he rubbed my head."

"He really cares about you."

"Well, I can't imagine why, especially after last night. Today he is probably relieved that he didn't end up with me."

"Don't say that, Bella. I probably shouldn't say this…especially now, but Jasper thinks he is in love with you."

I see through Alice's thinly veiled attempt to get me to focus on anything but James.

"Jasper has love on the brain. He is looking at the world in the rose-tinted glasses that you have provided him with your magic pussy."

"Magic pussy, that's lovely, thank you. So are we going to be bitter and bitchy now that you are a scorned woman so you can push all of us away?"

"That's the plan."

"Okay then, I'll leave you to it. I'll give you a day to wallow and then you're going to need to snap out of it…tomorrow will be a new day my friend."

She moves the mug of tea to my nightstand and then picks up the tray with the yogurt and toast remnants.

"Meanwhile, your phone is ringing every five minutes and making me crazy, so can you do something about it please?"

I slowly get out of bed and wander into the living room where I had thrown down my evening bag. I dig my phone out and shut it off without even checking to see how many messages I have. Then after using the bathroom, I crawl back in bed. I surprise even myself by how quickly sleep takes me.

Sometime in the evening Alice wakes me up again to check on me and to see if I will join her and Jasper for a movie. I just stare at her until she leaves the room. I must have her pretty freaked out, and I'm not intending to be a bitch, especially to her. I make a vow to myself to make an extra effort to be nice when I see her next. I watch the pattern of light and shadows on my wall for a while until my eyes start getting heavy again.

While I lay there willing myself back to sleep, I hear what sounds like our doorbell. I hold still as a mouse and listen; sure enough the bell rings again. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ I know there is absolutely no one that I want to see. The bell keeps ringing at increasingly faster intervals. Angry, I ease out of bed and tip toe into the hallway. A moment later there is banging on the door, and when it stops the muffled sound of his voice through the door paralyzes me.

"Bella, I have to talk to you. I've called you all day long and you won't take my calls, damn it. I know you are in there. I saw your light on before Alice left and you didn't go with her."

Is he fucking stalking me? How long has he been out there? I feel a chill shoot up my spine. Where is a goddamn flamethrower when you need one?

I almost yell out _Hey James, got your wife with you?_ But I decide against it. I don't want to engage him in any way.

"Bella, please baby, you have got to let me explain. We can work this out."

I feel the yogurt toast combination from earlier churning in my stomach. _We are not working out anything, motherfucker. _

I tip toe back to my bedroom, slip my ear buds in and crank up my iPod in an attempt to obliterate any indication that he is here. I crawl back in bed once again.

Sometime later as I drift out of my haze I hear Alice's voice nearby. She sounds agitated. I wonder what time it is and how long she has been home from the movies. I eventually get up, and right as I open my door her phone rings again. Her words surprise me as I stand in my doorway and eavesdrop.

"Hey, Edward."

"No, it's okay…I don't mind. Yeah, she turned it off early this afternoon."

"Did you talk to Jasper?"

"Well, the note had been slipped under the front door after we had left for the movies. I can't believe he had the nerve to come here. What a fucking creep. Of course she didn't answer the door. Serves him right, he's done a real number on her."

Yeah, I still can't believe that no one knew. If I ever see him I'm giving him a piece of my mind. Jasper even wanted to beat the crap out of him, but we all need to be careful considering what he could do to Bella's career if we really fuck him up."

"She stayed in bed all day and she's barely eating. She's really messed up…yeah, she seems to want to blame herself. I just don't get it, but I've never see her like this."

"Okay, why don't we talk tomorrow before you try to come over. She may not want anyone to see her like this, so let's see how she is doing. Yeah, I'll tell her you called."

"Oh, and Edward, she told me what you did…how you defended and helped her. I just want to say thank you for that."

"Okay, good night."

I wait a minute before I wander out of my room and into the living room.

"Hey, Alice."

"Bella! You startled me." She watches me carefully. "Are you okay?"

"Not really okay, but I'm awake at least. How was the movie?"

Alice seems to sense I need a distraction, so she goes on to tell me about the historical romance she dragged Jasper to. He actually didn't mind it as much as he thought he would. Then she talks about her big holiday presentation they are doing at work the following week which will force her to stay extra long hours. They work over eight months ahead in design, so they are always developing product in the wrong season. It must be weird thinking about Christmas ornaments in March or Halloween in January, but that's the reality of manufacturing. I curl up on the couch and listen carefully, grateful to be outside of my head for a while.

When she finally winds down to go to bed, I notice how awake I actually am. I managed to sleep on and off for a crazy amount of hours, and now I am going to pay the price for it. I decide that I will watch a movie, so I go through my bookshelf and realize that all of my movies are about relationships. Where are the damn comedies when you need them? I settle on _Annie Hall_, Woody Allen's '70s classic about a couple falling in and out of love. At least there are a lot of laughs in this film and I love Diane Keaton's character. I remember when I first saw it I used her phrase, _la de dah, la de dah_ for weeks. Now that my life has become so complicated, I don't think I'll be using that phrase any time soon.

I am mastering the fine art of being a drama queen, and my self-loathing is spreading through me like a virus. So although I may not be able to actually live on an island, there is nothing to stop me from creating an island to be a castaway on in my heart and mind. In this dark moment it feels like my survival depends on it.

.

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	33. Chapter 33  Ragged Edges

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.

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**Work of Art / Chapter Thirty-Three / Ragged Edges**

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep. ~Scott Adams

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At eight a.m. I wander into the kitchen for a glass of water and then stand in front of the kitchen sink forgetting why I'm there. My edges are ragged, and I am disoriented from watching four movies in a row and staying up all night. The sky outside is asphalt gray and as flat as my mood. I realize that there is no way I can make it through a day of work so I call Carlisle's voicemail and tell him that I need a sick day. For a moment I wonder if there is away to arrange my life so all I do is sleep and watch movies, since those are the two events that spare me from feeling much of anything. This time when I crawl back on my bed I am finally able to will myself to sleep again.

Later I am startled awake by something flopping down on the edge of my bed.

"This isn't going to cut it," a loud voice booms. "Come on, Bella baby, play time is over-time to get out of the fucking bed and face the world."

_Who let Rose in for God's sake? This is more than I can take._

"Did you break in?" I ask, highly irritated.

"Did you forget, Ms. Emo, that you gave me a copy of the key and your code after the robbery?"

"I didn't realize that you would put it to devious use."

"Man, you look like crap! Have you looked in the mirror, baby?"

"If you came here to make me feel better, I have to let you know that it isn't working."

"Enough with the cutsy banter, outta bed now!" She rips back the covers and storms into the bathroom, turning on the shower before returning to grab my arm and drag me out of bed.

"You are one pushy broad," I grumble as I shove her aside and walk to the bathroom of my own accord.

I have to admit the hot shower feels good, and I scrub my skin hard until I'm flushed pink like a newborn. When I'm done I dry off and get dressed in my most comfortable jeans and T-shirt.

Rose is standing by the window, looking out while deep in thought. As soon as she sees me she snaps back to reality. "Okay, let's go."

She drags me down to her car and drives to Hugo's Cafe. "Let's get some healthy food in you," she says as the hostess takes us to our table.

After we place our order I finally face her, asking, "So how much of the story do you know?"

"I had dinner with Edward last night."

"You know about James?"

She nods. "I'd really like to beat the shit out of him right now. If I'd known he was married, obviously I would never have pushed you to go out with him. Whatever happened to the idea of married people wearing their fucking wedding rings? It would really make all of our lives simpler."

"I know," I agree as I nod my head. "He talked a few times about his ex-wife, and I assumed he was divorced. The fucker was probably married before the career crusher, Heather. I should have had him clarify and categorize the wives."

"Categorize…hah! Yeah, Edward wants to categorize and kick his sorry ass."

I wait for more insight but she's looking at the menu. I can't wait, and so I ask, "What else did Edward say?"

"He's worried about you, and he doesn't know how to help you."

"I don't want him feeling like he has to help me." I pause to take a sip of my water. "Isn't it funny in life how quickly the tides can turn. We were so worried about him only a few weeks ago, and now you guys are worried about me."

"Yeah," she agrees. "But I'm very proud of him, Bella. He seems to be on the right path now. I see him really trying to turn his life around."

"I think you are right. Emmett said he didn't even go to that opening at the museum last week with all the models and actresses."

"Yeah, he told me that he is done with all that shit. No more art-whores." She watches me carefully. "I think he wants something more now."

The waitress interrupts the conversation to bring us our food, and I take a bite of my tofu and vegetable scramble.

"But enough about Edward-what about you? How long will this emo thing last? I mean, that married fucker was only good for hot dirty talk, freaky sexual encounters, and career advancement. It's not like he was your soul mate or anything. You are just pissed because he played you, so why don't you just get angry and then get over it."

I laugh and realize that it's the first time I've even smiled since the party. "So what do you really think, Rose?" I tease sarcastically. "I really can't tell how you feel about this dilemma I find myself in."

"I think that it's time to get out of town. Edward and I decided that we are bringing you to Santa Fe with us next week for the art fair. I've already called Carlisle about it and worked it out. It's going to be great."

"You worked it out with Carlisle?"

"Yup, and Edward got you a plane ticket with his miles. And my friend Michelle has offered to share her room with you since her girlfriend can't make it. Her company is paying for her room so it will be free for you. You just have to cover your food."

"You sure are a _get it done kinda gal,_ Rose. And I really appreciate it, but what if I don't want to go?"

"Oh, you're going. We are going to have a great time. You'll see."

I'm not sure whether to feel grateful or pissed off, so I quietly eat my lunch and listen to Rose tell stories about her previous travels to Santa Fe.

.

Next, the wild woman drags me to the art store. While she shops for supplies I wander around marveling at the wall of markers in every hue, sliding shelves full of exotic handmade papers, and enough paint brushes to supply an army of Picassos. I almost wish I were an artist so I could play with all this cool stuff.

Rose takes her full basket to the register, and when we get to the car she pulls out a box and hands it to me. "A gift for you," she announces happily. It's a _Hello Kitty_ paint-by-numbers kit. It's as if the best of my worlds have collided, and I squeeze her in appreciation. My best friend the painter gives me a painting kit of the character that reminds me of my fun evening with my other best friend. I should really get those two together; they have more in common than they realize. Then of course the paint-by-number aspect reminds me of my fun day with Edward thrift store shopping.

I examine the kit carefully. The age restriction is marked for four years and above due to the simplicity of the design and the thick black lines created to contain the wandering little paint brushes. "I think I can handle this," I joke. "Thanks, Rose."

On the way back home Rose takes a call on her Bluetooth, so I finally turn my cell phone back on and it practically explodes with all the messages it has been harboring. I still ignore my voicemail and decide to text Edward, since I'm sure he is wondering how I am doing.

.

_Rose just dragged me out of bed to go to lunch. I was mad, but I have to admit it was a good thing._

_I'm glad. How are you doing? _he responds.

_A little better. She bought me a paint-by-numbers kit that I'm going to tackle when I get home._

_Maybe it will end up in my painting._

_I doubt it…it's Hello Kitty._

_That big-headed cat? You're right…I don't think so. _

_If I do a nice job with it I'll give it to you for your birthday._

_Gee thanks. By the way what time am I picking you up for Harry Potter Wed. night?_

_How about 11?_

_10 and we can have a really late dinner._

We pull up to my apartment. I send one last text to Edward.

_OK 10 it is-Gotta go-talk to you later._

His response makes me smile.

_Goodbye Kitty._

_._

That afternoon I open up the cardboard packaging and pull out the contents of my paint-by-numbers kit, which features a piece of white cardboard with the black outline of Hello Kitty at the beach. There is a little paintbrush and a row of little plastic pots of colors that are attached together.

As I carefully apply the paint with the crappy little brush, I think about all that Rose and I talked about. She's right-I can't just burrow in a hole; I need to get out and live my life. I may need to take a break from dating until I can trust myself and someone else again, but that doesn't mean I should let this experience crush me. And although James' attention was addictive and seemed to fill an empty part of me, it's not like I was in love with him or anything close to that. I will just try to wipe the memory of him clean from my mind, like one of those gray felt rectangles sweeping across a chalk filled slate. The image is rubbed away and all that is left are the floating particles of residue.

When the last pot of paint is clicked shut I take my masterpiece and prop it up against the vase on the table. The big headed Kitty looks blissful as she frolics on the beach. I think I may give this to Edward after all. I lay it back down and write along the edge _Hello Kitty in Malibu_.

If I could render it, I would be tempted to paint Edward's house into the background of my little masterpiece_. _As I look once more at her blissful expression I laugh to myself,_ That cat must be so happy because she is on her way to Edward's_.

Thanks to Rose's tough-love intervention I manage to get through the rest of Monday night and make it to work on Tuesday despite my lingering feeling of doom. Everyone metaphorically tiptoes around me at the studio, avoiding the big fat married cheating elephant in the room. Alice warned me that word had spread about the scene at the event, and Carlisle had even called Jasper to confirm because he was going to confront James on my behalf. Luckily Jasper had convinced him not to do anything until I got my bearings.

So I am grateful to not have to rehash the sordid details, especially with Jacob who would surely turn it into an epic drama which I don't have the fortitude to face. My snarky sass has left the building-so laying low is my only option until I can get my mojo back. We spend most of the day printing, and I stay quiet, focused on the work at hand and the music playing in the background.

Late in the afternoon I turn my head sideways to listen. Is it my imagination or did I just hear my name being called from the front gallery? I set down the print in my hands and move towards the door. I hear Emmett's voice and he sounds agitated. Then my name is called again louder and my stomach lurches. _It is James._ Just then the door into the studio starts to open and then it slams shut again.

"I asked you to leave. You can't see her now." Emmett's voice booms.

"I saw her car, and I know she's here. I have to talk to her. She isn't returning any of my calls." He sounds so different, and I realize that before his unveiling I had never heard him sound anything but calm, cool and collected. This version of James sounds almost panicky, and it's unnerving. I start to break out into a cold sweat.

"I don't care what you need…I'm thinking about what Bella needs. And she sure as hell doesn't need to see you." Emmett's anger is building, and I get that roller coaster feeling of terror where you are inching to the top of the track's climb and there is the teasing pause before you plummet down.

I look over to Jacob nervously, and I can tell it is just hitting him what is happening.

"I can't believe the motherfucker showed up here! Don't worry, Bella, I'll take care of him," Jacob growls, rage etched across his face.

I step into his path, and he almost knocks me over but grabs me in time and steadies us both.

"Please, please, Jacob, no…Emmett can handle him. I want you here, not out there beating the crap out of James." Tears start pooling in the darkened crescents under my eyes, and when Jacob sees my expression he immediately stills, his aggression deflating.

"Come on, Bella, please let me beat the crap out of him. I'll do it outside so you don't have to hear it."

"Oh, Jacob," I lament, "that is so sweet in a very twisted way." I take a step closer to him and press my hands against his chest which is still heaving. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly.

The sounds just beyond the door snap us back to attention. Emmett is really pissed now. Does James know who he is messing with?

"This is my last warning, James…and if you don't get out of here now I am going to have to get physical," he roars.

Jacob and I hold our breaths listening, but it suddenly seems quiet in the other room. I am hoping that James has finally left the building. Another minute passes and then Emmett opens the door and slowly walks into the studio. He doesn't look happy.

"Fuck! He wasn't going to take no for an answer," Emmett groans.

"I'm so sorry, Emmett," I moan. "I can't believe my personal problems are following me to work now. I feel terrible that you had to deal with him."

"Oh, I don't care about that," scoffs Emmett. "But it was pretty weird. I've met him on a few occasions, but today I barely recognized him. He looked like hell."

"See, that's what Bella does to men," Jacob teases, obviously a bad attempt at a joke.

I grimace at him. "I don't know why he can't just leave me alone. What the fuck does he want, anyway? There is nothing he could ever say that would make what happened okay."

Emmett nods. "Yeah, I just get the feeling he isn't used to not getting his way. But sometimes wanting something just isn't enough."

"You can say that again," Jacob agrees. He looks over at me and realizes that I look stricken. "Bella, why don't you take off now? I can finish up here."

I nod my head and gather up my things. Emmett walks me to my car just to make sure James isn't lingering in the parking lot. My head is a high-speed blender whipping together anxiety, regret, anger and despair until I am numb. I don't even remember the drive home.

.

By the end of the work day Wednesday I am exhausted, so I head home and nap before my late evening with Edward. After a wake-up shower and Diet Coke, I realize that I am actually looking forward to going out. That has to be a good sign considering that I couldn't even get out of bed just four days ago. Maybe I'm starting to resurface after all.

When the bell rings and I pull open the front door, Edward is holding a little stuffed animal-a snowy white owl and a package of Bertie Botts jelly beans. His grin makes him look like a young boy as he offers them to me.

I give him a hug before asking, "Where did you get these?" I peek into the decorative candy box and give the owl a squeeze.

"The bookstore I was at had a special display. I had to restrain myself from also buying the light-up wand and red and yellow striped Griffindor knit scarf."

"Wise choice…these are perfect. Thanks, Edward." I set my plush Hedwig on the mantel and stick the candy in my purse before we head out the door. We taste and try to guess the jelly beans flavors all the way to the complex. He swears he got a liver and onions flavored one, but I don't believe him.

We decide to have dinner in the café at the fancy Arclight Theater so we know we won't be late for the movie. The tickets are sold out, and we don't want to risk being late. We order a couple of beers from the bar, and then Edward orders a burger while I choose a turkey wrap sandwich.

We fill each other in on our week while we eat. Edward reports that he has seen Cara his therapist, and he likes that she is giving him very specific things to work on including dedicating some of his time to help others like he and Ann had discussed. With this in mind, he has contacted an old high school friend who had once asked him to do some guest teaching for a group of talented but economically disadvantaged kids. Raphael works for the Fine Arts magnet high school near downtown L.A., and he had asked Edward in the past to work with the students but Edward never found the time. So now he is going to make the time, and his first class will be Friday morning. Since most of the students come from severely underprivileged backgrounds, Edward's world is one they can only dream about or perhaps not even imagine.

I smile at him, feeling so proud of all the progress he has made. His determination and focus on what needs to be done really shines in situations like this. I can only imagine what he can accomplish when he really feels centered and whole again.

He looks at me intently, and then asks the question he has been holding in since he picked me up. I note his nonchalant approach sounds a little tense.

"So, have you heard from James?"

I can feel my smile fall. "Well, his phone calls have tapered off slowly. We started with at least one every hour, and now we are down to about three a day."

"Have you picked up any calls or listened to his voicemails?"

I shake my head firmly. "No, I don't want to talk to him or hear what he has to say. I have erased all the voicemails without listening to them." I can sense that Edward is happy to hear that. "He did try to corner me at work though."

"He came to the gallery?" Edward asks, surprised. He knows that is completely out of character for James to humiliate himself like that.

"Yeah. Thank goodness Emmett was up front at the same time. He practically had to physically remove him from the building. It freaked me out."

Edward nods looking concerned. "Where were you?"

"In the print studio holding back Jacob. He wanted to go kick his ass."

Although I know Edward concurs, I also know that he doesn't like the idea of Jacob being the one to defend me. His expression is really dark and troubled now.

"Edward, I've been really worried about something-how do you think this situation is going to affect the book?"

"I already called the V.P. at Taschen and checked on that yesterday. Don't be troubled though, I didn't give any details…I just said that we had a falling out with Alistair, and I was afraid of the ramifications. He assured me that the book was already on the press and whatever conflict happened wouldn't change their plans for releasing or marketing the book."

"I'm so relieved. Thanks for calling Taschen. It would have killed me if this hurt the book on top of everything else."

"Don't worry, Bella. It's fine really." He glances down at his watch to check the time. "Hey, we should head over to the theater."

A surge of excitement hits me, and I bounce in my seat as I start humming the opening music for the Harry Potter titles. He laughs and leads me over to the snack stand where we buy popcorn and Milk Duds despite the fact that we had Bertie Botts Beans as an appetizer and just finished eating a late dinner.

The movie is everything I had hoped…great portrayals of the characters, a fairly faithful interpretation of the book, and visually compelling sets and effects. Since I had read all the books at least twice there were no surprises in the content of the film, but what did surprise me was how I react when Dumbledore is killed near the end. I knew it was coming, I had even braced myself for it…but it still knocks me over, and I feel it in my gut like a close relative has died. And because I seemed intent in setting the world record for crying this week, I am practically sobbing in the theater. I can feel the effect it is having on Edward; yet I can't seem to stop myself. The couple in front of me even turns around to gawk.

The moment the credits start Edward grabs me and we head out of the theater, walking out to the plaza area without saying a word. Finally when we reach the outdoor fountain, Edward sits down on the ledge and guides me to sit next to him. He even rubs my back until the tears finally taper off. By the time I am done all that is left is a raw empty feeling. I look up and realize that the plaza is desolate since it is almost three a.m.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting to react like that."

"Don't be sorry. I just feel bad because this was supposed to be a fun evening. Not a big downer."

"Oh, it was a fun evening Edward, please don't think it wasn't. I guess I'm just a little worn out emotionally this week, and something about Harry losing Dumbledore, the only person he had left that could guide him and care for him, just hit too close to home tonight. I guess we share that in common with Harry, don't we? Essentially you and I have both lost our parents' presence and guidance in our lives. That person you always knew would be there for you."

"But we can be there for each other, Bella," he says softly, putting his arm over my shoulder. "Look how much we have been through together already." He pauses in thought before he continues.

"Look at what Ginny and Harry went through, and Rowling has them married and living happily ever after by the end of the last book."

I have to smile at his sweetly innocent source of inspiration.

And in that moment I know that there is nothing I would love more than to have complete faith in Edward, but I'm not even sure I have faith in myself. We are two tender plants pushing our roots towards each other through the dark wet soil while still reaching for the sun.

As I tuck myself into Edward, I look up at the maintenance man who is starting to hose down the walkway. In the shadows of the moonlight the water cascades past our feet. As he works he is watching us with a sentimental expression. I wonder what he sees when he looks at us?

My handsome Edward is cradling me with so many more words in his gentle expression than he may ever be willing to say. Does this stranger see all the love threading between us…gently joining us?

Do we?

.

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_**Next chapter Santa Fe. It's a magical place…**_

_**And thank you for your recs, re-tweets and reviews…they affect this emo author more than you can imagine.**_

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	34. Chapter 34 Dodging the Speeding Train

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.

**Thank you to my beta TwilightZoner who gives multi-tasking new meaning.**

_**When the last chapter's reviews came in I could almost see all of you on the sidelines waving your pom-poms and cheering me on. Thank you for your enthusiasm, patience, support and passion for this story-I love you guys!**_

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**Work of Art / Chapter Thirty-Four / Dodging the Speeding Train**

_Our greatest glory consists not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. ~Confucius_

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As we pull out of the theater's parking garage, I am struck with the hollow quiet of the empty streets. It is rare to experience this feeling in Los Angeles, and it is a bit haunting, but it fits my mood. On the drive back to my apartment, Edward lets me know that he is leaving for a show in Toronto Friday after working with the kids at the art school downtown and he won't be back until right before Santa Fe. I feel a wave of emotion as if I am missing him, and he hasn't even left yet.

Without Edward and James stirring up the pot, the following week seems rather dull. But considering everything, maybe a little dullness is what the doctor ordered. Other than lunch with Alice on Saturday, I mainly stay close to home, reading and writing over the weekend.

At Monday's meeting Carlisle lays out the plans for Santa Fe. Emmett will travel Wednesday so he can oversee the booth set-up on Thursday morning. Carlisle and Esme plan to fly in Thursday afternoon so they will be ready for a full day on Friday. Carlisle takes me aside later to let me know that he thinks they will be able to handle things on their own since it is a much smaller show for the gallery than New York.

"Why don't you take some time to enjoy Santa Fe, Bella? It is a great town, and I think it will be good for you to have a change of pace to get your mind off things."

I look over at him warily. I know he has been very disturbed about what happened with James, but he hasn't spoken to me about it yet. Emmett shared with me that he has had to talk him out of confronting James several times. This actually pulls at my heart, because that is exactly what a dad would do for his daughter. Evidently James had given Carlisle the impression several years ago that he had divorced Heather, so he was shocked when he had heard the news. I am so lucky to have Carlisle watching out for me. It's too bad that I'm my own worst enemy. How can I expect Carlisle to be able to protect me when I seem determined to put myself in emotionally risky situations?

You can only do so much for the one who steps out in front of the speeding train.

..~*~..

Since we can't get direct flights we will fly to Albuquerque and then drive to Santa Fe. Our flight is out of LAX on Wednesday at two, and we decide to carpool to the airport and share the cost for parking. I drive over to Rose's place where Emmett has agreed to pick us both up. Although the two of them certainly know each other, I don't think they have spent much time talking, and I am amused as they chat non-stop the entire drive.

After we fumble through security and stop for snacks, we head over to our gate. My eyes scan over the people patiently waiting for their flights. Finally I find what I'm looking for. His bronze tousled hair rises above the row of people. His eyes are closed as he subtly sways his head to his iPod music…m_y Edward._

I walk over to him and pause before lightly touching his knee. His emerald green eyes pop open, and his face lights up as he pulls out his ear buds and stands up to hug me.

"Bella." He seems to breathe me in. "I'm so glad you are here…part of me didn't believe you would actually come."

"Yeah, well part of me didn't believe it either, but here I am thanks to you," I tease him. I look over and see Emmett and Rose, and they seem to be hesitant to come over. They are watching Edward and me carefully and both have curious looks on their faces. I step away from our embrace and wave for them to join us.

Southwest Airlines doesn't assign seats, so when it is boarding time I end up sitting with Edward and Rose sits with Emmett. It's a short flight, but Edward tells me about his experience at the high school and vows to bring me with him one day. I can tell it was an inspiring experience for him. Evidently the kids were kind of wild, but there is a lot of raw talent and energy among them that he really likes. He also is pleased that the Toronto gallery event was very successful, with over half of the paintings presold before the actual show. He even met one couple who traveled all the way from Vancouver to attend. They already owned three of his paintings, and they bought two more at the event.

Once we land we decide to rent two cars, since Edward wants to go hiking in Bandelier National Park tomorrow and will need his own vehicle. It is an hour drive from Albuquerque to Santa Fe, and he asks if I'll keep him company for the ride. That leaves Rose and Emmett together again, but they seem fine with it as the witty banter flies between them. Before we separate we agree to meet for dinner at six-thirty at the Santacafe restaurant.

The drive cutting through the purple mountains and scraggy landscape of the high desert goes quickly, and before you know it we roll into charming Santa Fe. Almost the entire town is a collection of structures in the terracotta Southwestern style that gives its distinctive flavor to the area. We pass through the town plaza before heading into the foothills to where we are staying. Bishops Lodge is a series of adobe bungalows built into the side of the mountain with a sweeping view. It is quiet and beautifully rustic.

My roommate, Michelle, hasn't arrived yet, so after Edward checks in he offers me his room to rest in before dinner while he goes to meet with a local gallery owner. His room is on the far edge of the property and has a balcony overlooking a creek surrounded by fields and trees. There is a gas kiva fireplace in the corner of the room, and I turn it on then curl up in the big chair that faces it with my book. Between adjusting to the high altitude, the fresh air and the cozy fire, I am sound asleep within minutes.

.

In my deep sleep I become aware of a soft scratching sound. Then I hear the crackle of the fire and the scratching again. I slowly open my eyes, and Edward is sitting across from me with his sketch pad in his lap. He is working intently, apparently drawing, and then he looks over at me with an intensity I don't recognize. I realize that he is studying me as he draws. He seems to study my hands, which are gently folded in my lap, before focusing on his work again.

The next time he looks over his eyes travel up to my face and he realizes I'm awake. _Busted._ Embarrassed, he quietly closes his book and smiles at me. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"Mmmm, yes." I stretch my arms up as I yawn. "Did it go okay at the gallery? You weren't gone that long."

"Long enough." He smiles. "It was good, yeah, the meeting was good." He stands up and moves out to the balcony and looks out at the view. I like watching him move. There is sureness in his step and the way he stands-his broad shoulders the perfect apostrophe to my question mark.

Can he imagine what I am thinking as I watch him? I know it's not right to sit here curled up in _his_ hotel room and ogle my good friend in a salacious way. But _damn him _for the way he fills up his jeans. And _damn him_ for the way his profile catches the sun and makes my heart hurt for the sheer beauty of it all.

I rise out of the chair and join him on the balcony. The fresh air is startling. My Los Angeles lungs hardly know how to respond, so I take a deep breath reminding them.

"It is so beautiful here," I comment, feeling that sometimes it is okay to state the obvious. "I want to take a long walk tomorrow."

"Why don't you come with me to Bandelier?"

"Aren't you doing a major hike or something? I don't think I would be up for that. Besides, I should help Emmett set up at some point."

"Well, don't decide now. You can see how you feel in the morning. How about we head into town and walk around the plaza until dinner?"

I agree and we grab our jackets and head out the door.

Once in the plaza we eschew the Starbucks, which just looks wrong in this setting, and instead slip into a little family owned pastry shop to get a coffee. Afterwards we wander around, and I marvel at all the galleries, charming shops and cafes. There is an artistic aesthetic everywhere you turn. I am already infatuated with Santa Fe, and I suspect that the feeling could blossom into love before my trip is over.

As six-thirty rolls around we meet up with the group at the restaurant. Jasper has reserved a large table inside and he, Sam, Sam's girlfriend Xio and Michelle all join us so we have now grown to a large, lively group. In the shuffle of sitting down I end up across the table from Edward and next to Jasper and Rose. The conversation opens with a lot of speculation about business, but eventually we shift into travel disaster stories prompted by Sam and Xio's almost missing their flight today. As we laugh and talk over each other I notice Edward watching me, and he smiles warmly every time I look his way.

When we are done, we walk through the plaza, wandering into the galleries that are still open. One gift shop on the edge of the plaza has made the grave mistake of hanging a series of Thomas Kincade paintings, and this unleashes a rash of negative commentary. Evidently the self-proclaimed _Painter of Light,_ whose paintings of cottages in the English countryside sell on the home shopping channels, is not highly regarded by this group. It was unclear to me who was louder trashing Kincade: Edward, Rose or Sam. Even Jasper gets into the fray, and we howl with laughter as we stumble towards our cars.

Before we part for the night, Edward makes one last play for me to come to Bandelier, and Emmett overhears.

"You should go, Bella," Emmett chimes in. "I've been there and I love the whole feeling. Have you heard about the cliff dwellings? You've gotta climb up into one of those."

Edward nods his head, concurring. "See, you really should come."

"But what about the booth, Emmett? Don't you need my help?"

"No, the freight company is uncrating and unwrapping the art. So I will only have to hang the work, and we only brought fifteen paintings. "

"I can help him, Bella," Jasper jumps in. "Go to Bandelier."

I smile at Edward. "It looks like I'm going with you."

"All right!" he says happily. I can see the wheels in his head spinning. "Make sure you eat a good breakfast, and then meet me in the lobby at nine sharp. Oh and bring something to write with. I'm bringing my sketch pad."

"Yes sir!" I laugh.

After we get back to Bishop's Lodge, I retrieve my bags and head over to Michelle's room. I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit that I would have preferred to stay with Edward. But I remind myself that I will be with him again in just over ten hours, and I feel a surge of excitement as I wonder what the day will hold.

..~*~..

When I arrive in the lobby at nine the next morning Edward is waiting for me. He's wearing cargo shorts, hiking shoes and a jacket over his T-shirt. He also has a backpack, and I note that his hair is still wet from his shower.

"You know I hadn't planned on hiking, so this was the best I could do," I comment as I wave over my outfit of jeans, sneakers, and a tank top and hoodie.

"That's fine," he reassures me. "I've downgraded the hike since I don't want to wear you out on your first full day here." He grins at me.

"Oh, so now you're downgrading for me," I tease as I push him gently away.

"Yes, downgrading _the hike_…but your coming is an upgrade. Let's hit the road," he says cheerfully as we head out towards his car.

It takes us about an hour to get there, park, and then go through the visitor center to get our maps. When we start out on the trail I am happy to note how few people are around. Wandering through nature is the antithesis of the L.A. experience, and it's a treat that we aren't distracted by a ton of other tourists. Other than the occasional whisper of the wind through the towering pine trees, the silence is deafening. We walk quietly, taking it all in. There are unusual rock formations due to prehistoric volcanic activity, rustic vegetation, and signs of wildlife.

We start on the main trek and then turn onto the Ceremonial Cave trail which takes us to the remains of an ancient pueblo before circling back towards the cliff dwellings for which the park is famous. From a distance they just look like holes blown out of the rock walls about twenty feet off the ground. But as you get closer you realize that the holes are entrances or windows to rooms that have been literally been formed by volcanic pockets in the mountains. Hand-hewed ladders lead you up into the primitive homes.

When we get to the first cliff dwelling, Edward pushes me towards the ladder. "Up you go, girlie."

"Yeah, yeah…you want me to go first so you can look at my ass."

"And you have a problem with that?" he teases.

"I guess not, since I have such a great ass."

"You won't get any disagreements from me," he concurs. "Your ass is a thing of beauty."

At the top of the ladder I crawl forward into the room that has been formed out of the mountain. Edward soon follows. "People really lived in here?" I ask marveling at the idea of it. It feels like someone took a sharp spoon and carved out the center of a stone. You are completely surrounded by nothing but shale rock and the air and light that passes through the ragged openings. It is so organic that I feel like I'm part of the earth as I sit on the cold stone floor.

"Yeah, they were safe from predators up here," Edward states. He rubs his hands against the walls over places people have carved their names and declarations of love. We take in the view from the elevated point before heading back down the ladder.

Edward asks if I'm hungry, and he pulls out an insulated bag with a lunch that he had the hotel pack for us. We find a picnic area nearby, and I lay out the cloth napkins before we spread out our feast on the worn table. For a moment I try to imagine what this day would have been like for him if he had come alone as originally planned. Of course Edward seems to like being alone and he would have taken a much longer hike, but I flatter myself by imagining that he is having a much better time with me here.

"Are you glad I came?" I ask uncertainly. "I mean, you don't regret me slowing you down?"

He flashes his gorgeous smile at me. "Are you kidding? I am so glad you are here with me."

We slowly eat, savoring the quiet easiness of the afternoon. After we have cleaned up he pulls out his sketchbook and my journal from his backpack, and we wander further down the trail until we find a spot that seems inspiring. There is a patch of wild grass, and I sink down into the cool softness before I pull my book open and let my thoughts tumble into words-which I then try to shape on the blank page. I write freely without judging or editing, just allowing my emotions to take me wherever my muse wants to go.

Edward looks equally inspired as he faces a small grove of trees dramatically lit by light cutting through the nearby chasm in the rocks. He works with a loose quick hand and doesn't speak while he draws. The quiet tenor between us could be awkward, but instead it is strangely comforting. To me this easy silence indicates that we have passed the litmus test of true friendship, and I smile realizing how far we have come.

When it is finally time to move on Edward is determined to see one more cliff dwelling before we leave, and we continue down the path until we find one of the last on the map. This ancient home is even higher up the cliff, so we brave the tall ladder and climb in only to be rewarded with a spectacular view of the entire valley. We scoot on our butts to the rear wall and lean back with our feet stretched in front of us so we can take it all in.

"Ahhh," I sigh before taking a deep breath. "This has been so good for me today. It was just what I needed." I stretch my arms out and think for a moment before continuing my thought. "Despite the fact that I still haven't been able to get my mind off all of the problems I've created for myself…something about being here gives me hope that things can be better."

Edward looks over and watches me carefully as I twist my hands on my lap. "I hope so. Because if you let what happened with James keep you from being happy, from being able to trust yourself and others again, then he has damaged you twice, and you can't give him that Bella. You just can't."

"I know you are right, but it's not so easy to forgive myself." I drop my head and press my fingers into my thighs. "And what about you?" I ask gently. "Do you feel like the things you are doing with your therapy and everything are helping you? That maybe one day you will be able to enjoy what you have achieved and find contentment?"

"I'm really working on it," he admits. "It's taken me a long time to deal with my crap."

He pauses, and as he looks out over the vista I can sense his frustration.

"So much goes back to a relationship in my past that wounded me so deeply that it set me in a pattern of self destruction, and now I'm finally refusing to let that define me anymore."

"Are you talking about Tanya?"

"Yes, how do you know about her?"

"Rose told me about her and your relationship during college and how she suddenly left." I watch him carefully to see how much pain my comment evokes. But I am surprised to see that he handles it without even flinching.

"Yeah, I don't know if I can fully explain what I was like when I was with her…who I became. I was so obsessed with her that I lost all sense of myself, and it was like part of me died when she left. When I finally picked myself off the floor, I was determined to prove to her and the world that she walked away from someone so cool, so successful, that she would eventually come to her senses and come back to me. And once I had achieved all the success and notoriety, not only did she not come back, but it just seemed like none of it meant anything."

"And so all the women, the art-whores, were part of that?"

"Yeah, I had absolutely no interest in being close to anyone again. I became so terrified that if I found someone I actually cared for I would become crazy obsessed again, and I doubted I could survive round two of that dark place. And so I surrounded myself with the kind of women that would insure I'd never go there."

"And then…?"

"And then I met you," he states simply.

I look over at him, and he is still gazing out in the distance with his strong arms folded across his chest. He sighs and leans forward, running his fingers through his hair.

"You know, the worst part is that you met me at my lowest point. You have seen me in ugly circumstances doing incredibly stupid things. So now I know you may never trust me around other women…or trust that I mean what I say to you." He looks at me to gauge my reaction.

I think for a long moment. "I want to trust you, Edward, but I don't even trust myself. I'm scared."

I take a deep breath and watch a bird that has landed at the top of the ladder.

"Hell, I'm scared too. For the longest time I tried to stay away from you. I was so terrified because my attraction to you and the person you are-was stronger than anything I ever felt for Tanya, and I knew I could ruin both of us. I couldn't do that to you. I care too much about you, Bella.

"But through everything we have gone through, and now being back in therapy, I realize that it can be different with you…that I don't have to repeat those old patterns. But just when I start finding my strength and confidence in us, you go through this betrayal with James, and now you are broken. I know it feels like things are hopeless, Bella, but that doesn't mean it isn't still worth fighting for….because it is."

He reaches over and takes my hand in his, and my heart skips from the sudden connection, the warmth that envelopes me in his tender grasp.

"I'm going to wait for you, Bella, as long as it takes. I don't want anyone else. I want you, and I am going to prove it to you every day until you finally believe me and you want me too."

I am shocked, and I look over at him to find his green eyes blazing with every ounce of life and want that a man can contain. I am scared…not just scared, terrified. Because in that moment I realize that Edward has come to mean everything to me. I am way past the initial intoxicating infatuation. This is the tower of a hard-won friendship built one layer at a time that holds me up and gives me hope. I can't lose him. I can't destroy what we have already fought so hard for.

My brain searches for the right words, careful but encouraging words that will brace us until my wobbly legs find their strength to stand on their own and face him. But suddenly we hear voices, the sound of other hikers working up the ladder towards our little oasis, and our bubble pops. When our hands pull apart I feel as if I have lost a prize I had only just won. We lift ourselves up and prepare to descend the ladder as soon as it is clear.

On the drive back towards Santa Fe we are both quiet, and he turns on the radio to fill the empty space all around us. The entire drive I relive our times together in my mind: every moment from meeting at the art show in New York to him opening his heart in Bandelier. And when I look back on it all I can't help but note how much we have both changed, both together and individually. When we pull into the parking lot and he shuts off the engine, I reach over and take his hand and face him.

"Edward, I really want to be better, and I want to be good for you…and I think I'm going to get there. But until I do, I don't want to lose you."

He looks sad yet hopeful. "You aren't going to lose me, angel. Like I told you, I'm going to wait for you, okay?"

"Okay." I smile and we step outside.

"Why don't you rest for a bit. Jasper wanted to meet for dinner here at seven, and I think Rose and Emmett may join us too."

I nod and give him a hug before I head inside.

.

I am distracted at dinner, and Edward watches me fidget and stare out the big picture window. Everyone else is animated and chatty about the day, but all I really want to do is go hide in my room. I know I need to snap out of it, but I am overwhelmed with emotions teetering between heartfelt desire ignited from Edward's confession and paralyzing fear that I am going to ruin everything.

After the bill is paid we amble out into the lobby, and I decide to use the restroom before trekking over to my bungalow. I say goodnight to everyone and promise to meet up for breakfast in the morning.

My reflection in the bathroom mirror startles me-the battle wounds over the last few weeks seem to have etched themselves across my features. I splash cold water repeatedly across my face, hoping to wash away the pain and uncertainty. When I'm done patting my skin dry, I head back out and smile to see that Edward has waited for me. I am about thirty feet from him when I suddenly hear my name being called from the opposite direction.

"Bella."

_Fuck no._ I don't even turn towards the sound of his voice, but I sense him quickly moving towards me.

"Bella, please wait," he calls out to me nervously.

I look ahead to see the shock turning to fury on Edward's face.

_No, fuck no._ I am instantly angry. The flames are turning my eyes hot red. I came to Santa Fe to get away of even the thought of him, and now he stands before me reaching out like he still owns a piece of me. My rage is so big that I want to emotionally set him on fire and watch him burn. My voice comes out dangerously dark and heavy.

"James…what in the hell are you doing here?"

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_**…so many possibilities up ahead…thank you for reviewing. I love hearing from you.**_

**Chapter 35 will update Saturday-and it's significant-you won't want to miss it.**

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	35. Chapter 35  The Masterpiece

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

**_Thank you to my beta Twilightzoner and Farkle as their advise had a large impact on my edit of this chapter. Also a big squeeze to my passionate Azu whose belief in me and this story is unwavering.  
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**Work of Art / Chapter Thirty-Five / The Masterpiece**

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"Bella," he calls out. His agony is apparent.

"What are you doing here, James? How did you know I was here?" My voice is edged with hysteria.

"I have to talk to you, and you won't respond to my calls. So I had to find you. I wasn't going to give up until I had a chance to make you understand."

I am startled at the sight of him. He looks like hell, like he hasn't slept or taken care of himself for days.

"I don't have anything to say to you. Can't you just leave me alone?" I look up and see Edward heading towards us. _Fuck no._

"Bella, please, can you give me ten minutes to explain everything, and then after that if you still don't want to talk to me I promise I won't try to contact you anymore."

Just then Edward forcefully steps right in front of James like his presence is a flimsy stand-in for anyone significant. A line is drawn in his testosterone edged gesture. Edward is facing me with only inches between us. "Come on, Bella. Let's go." He looks so tightly wound that frankly I'm amazed he hasn't taken James down already.

"Ten minutes, Bella, just ten minutes." I hear James chant from behind Edward. I am impressed with his bravery in the face of what I perceive to be a dangerously angry man. Desperate want can cause the most sighted man to be blind.

Edward looks over his shoulder at James and in a venom tinged voice growls, "Since we are in a nice hotel I would prefer not to beat the crap out of you old man, but I will if I have to."

"Bella, please." He leans sideways to look past Edward and see me. He is begging now, and it is weakening my resolve. Maybe a final conversation with James is how I am going to finally put this all behind me. I try to rein in my fury.

_Fuck, why did this have to happen…? _Surely there can be no winners here. But I've had an equal part in creating this problem; now I have to step up and take care of it.

I look up at Edward and rest my hands on his forearms before calmly speaking. "I need to do this Edward. It's the only way I'm going to move forward. Please understand and let me do this, okay?"

He looks devastated, and I almost lose my resolve. "I don't want you to be alone with him, Bella." I see the briefest flash of fear in his eyes.

"Please, Edward. I'll be okay. I'll talk to him right here in the lodge."

He looks at me long and hard then steps to the side. He fishes in his pocket, pulls out one of his room keys, and hands it to me. He is clearly making a point to James.

"If you need me you know where I'll be." His eyes have a haunted look. I hate myself for what this is doing to him.

Before he leaves he turns to James. "If you cross the line with her I swear I will fuck you up, Alistair. And you won't be able to hide because I will find you wherever you go." He gives me one last look before he turns and walks away, and I feel as if my heart is leaving with him.

James seems to sense that the clock is ticking and firmly takes my elbow and leads me to a table in the corner of the bar. I sink into the chair, fold my arms over my chest, and wait for him to start.

"So are you with Edward now? Bella, surely you know better considering his reputation. He licks his dry lips nervously, and his eyes dart sideways to assure that there is no one nearby.

My stare becomes steely. "You of all people are going to warn me about Edward? But if that is how you want to spend your fucking ten minutes…be my guest."

His eyes widen as he realizes his misstep, and he gets back on track. He takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye. "Bella, first of all, I am sorry I deceived you. I would give anything to go back and redo all that has happened, but I can't. All I can ask is for you to try to understand the hell I have been in…and how it led to so many bad decisions…so many things I regret." His head drops and his fingers curls into fists before he stretches them out again.

"You are young, Bella, and you don't know what it is to be stuck in a broken marriage where all hope for any real happiness is gone, and how that can drive a man mad and lead him to desperate acts."

_Is this supposed to make me feel better? Because it isn't working._

He realizes that I haven't softened in the slightest, so he dives into the next round of his story.

"Twelve years ago my wife was very ill, she almost died, and the effects of her treatment left her not just infertile but also with absolutely no libido. At first I tried to just deal with it since I loved her and had every intention of staying loyal to her. But after a while a man's needs can play tricks on his mind. As I got worn down, I somehow convinced myself that as long as I was attentive and took care of my wife's emotional needs, that some outside satisfaction would allow me to stay in an affectionless marriage. But once I headed down that road I let things get out of hand.

He pauses for a moment, taking off his tortoise shell glasses and rubbing his eyes before composing himself and starting up again.

"You know I did try to get Heather to a specialist thinking there were hormones or something she could take to make things better, but at that point she didn't seem to care anymore. She just filled her life up with social events and being obsessive about shopping and collecting art. When the opportunity came up for me to open the West Coast office of _ArtForum,_ she actually encouraged me to take it-I think so I would stop pressuring her about our absence of a sex life. I would still be in New York when she needed me; I could take her to the big events. Her family's connection as leaders in the fast food industry was a stigma she always tried to shake in the elite circles she traveled in. So she liked the prestige of my position in the art world and my family background.

"When you came into my life, Bella, I was so set in this pattern that I was a man living two lives-the doting husband in New York and lothario, pursuing women to act out my every fantasy, in Los Angeles. When we met I was instantly attracted to you, and I should have been careful since we would be working together. And that is the greatest irony…because it was the very act of us working together that brought me closer to you. I got to not just be in the presence of an alluring, sexual creature, but a young woman of extreme intelligence and depth. You gradually revealed yourself to be my ideal woman…the woman I had always waited for and would never be able to resist."

Ideal woman? I sit stunned. I had no idea his feelings for me ran this deep. He has lost his way in Fantasyland and needs to get off the Spinning Cups ride so he can see straight.

I am speechless, and my silence encourages him to declare his intentions in more detail.

"I think Heather knew I was falling in love with you before I did. She may have tolerated my infidelity as long as no one knew, but the way I was feeling about you began to threaten her sham of a marriage. What would people think? As I'm sure you deduced, my wife comes from extreme wealth and has every resource at her command. So once again she stepped in and drew the line. But the difference this time is that I can't just walk away from you. You have brought out feelings in me I didn't think I'd ever have again. I want you to be mine, baby. I want to take care of you and wake up with you in our bed, and I want to show you the world."

He looks at me with hope in his eyes.

"I told Heather I want a divorce. Bella, you are the only woman for me."

I am horrified. "No," I gasp. "Why would you do that? You can't leave your wife because of me."

"Look, I know you are angry…you are furious with me right now and you have every right. But if you give us a chance, I think you will realize how we are perfect for each other. We have already proven we have incredible sexual chemistry, we share so many passions in our work and interests, and I think in time you will come to love me too. I will be devoted to you…we can have a great life together."

Strangely, with his hallow words a single image comes into my mind, and it defines every breath and every thought that follows this moment. It is the image of Edward and me cocooned in the cliff dwelling and the way it felt when he took my hand in his.

My path is clear and brilliantly lit. Leaving behind the shadows of my past, I take the first step forward.

"I'm sorry, James." My voice is calm-nearly soothing as I almost feel sorry for him in his delusions. "But you see you don't really know me-not at all. It's funny, but it's the small things, not just the big things, that you don't have a clue about. You don't know what I like for breakfast, what I am afraid of, or what I think of my mom, what my favorite song is or what my dreams are. There is so much more to me than this person you have come to idealize. I could never be that woman. And I'm not trying to be cruel…but if you think you love me, then you can't really know what love is."

I am completely done. I push my chair back and stand up. "Now if you'll excuse me, there is someone waiting for me."

Out of the corner of my eye I can see his face fall into his hands, but he doesn't protest or follow me as I briskly walk out of the bar and the entrance to the lodge. Pausing on the front steps as the cool night air hits me, I look up to the black sky scattered with stars. Milky clouds are slowly passing across the full moon, and I gasp realizing that even though I just slammed a door shut, my heart has never felt more open. I reach into my pocket, pull out the room keycard, and start walking away from the lodge, but as it all sinks in my excitement takes over, and I begin running across the property like my life depends on it.

When I get to Edward's, I fumble with the keycard three times before getting the damn door open. I tumble into the room but it is empty-yet the fire is burning and music is playing from the iPod dock. I rush over to the bathroom, but that is empty as well. I am still panting from the run, and my heart is pounding as I frantically try to figure out where he can be. Finally I turn towards the patio door and see the faint outline of Edward lying outside on the chaise lounge under the moonlight. I call out to him, and he turns towards me abruptly before jumping up. He pulls the door open, and the look of panic and anguish is etched all over his face. I feel a stab of pain knowing I am the reason for his agony. But without a pause I step forward and lift my face up to his, my eyes searing into him.

"He's gone."

I watch his face relax but only perceptibly. "What did he want…what was he expecting from you?"

"He told me he left his wife for me. That he had to have me…that he was in love with me."

Edward raises his eyebrows. Even he wasn't expecting all that. His face darkens to know another man was making such declarations to me. He looks sick.

"And what did you say?" he finally asks quietly.

"I told him that he didn't have a clue what love was, and that he made a mistake by leaving her."

I watch Edward take a deep breath and then sigh, relieved that my answer was so resolute.

"And Edward, I'm glad that I talked to him, because when I did it crystallized what you said-I can't live another moment shut down because of what he did to me, what I did to myself…that instead I have to live my life with passion and go after exactly what I want."

"What do you want, Bella?" His eyes search my expression for what is still unspoken.

I look at him and smile before I hurl myself off the cliff. The anticipation of the freefall is delicious, because I'm sure of where I'm going to land. Then I pause to study him for our final moment as two separate people.

Standing before me is my sparking live wire…his mind a verdant forest to endlessly wander. His uncontainable spirit swirls around me, lifting me off the ground. My cheeks are windburned, my heart exploding from the sheer force of it.

I allow my eyes to move along his jaw, across his shoulders and down his thighs. I am desperately hungry because his body, his beautiful face is the physical manifestation of everything I have ever desired.

My friend, my greatest love…my Edward.

He looks at me expectantly, aching for my answer.

"You," I whisper. "I want you."

"Oh, Bella." His voice is heavy with emotion as he steps forward and pulls me powerfully into his arms. All of the longing we have suffered through now defines the surge of passion between us. His hands press into me as if in prayer.

My next breath catches with a sob, and I feel tears of joy and relief begin to paint my face. But he gently brushes them with his fingers and kisses away the salty remains.

A shade of disbelief and confusion from my tears lingers, and he still seems unsure of my intent. "You want me?" he asks with a whisper, hoping so much to believe me. His lips graze my cheek, lingering so close to mine that I imagine he wants to breath in my response so it can be pulled inside and course through him like the blood that keeps his heart beating.

I grab onto his arms and shake him. "You have to understand…you are all I've ever wanted." My voice is heated and urgent. "I can't deny it for another day, another moment."

This time my words slam into him, and he sways, rocks forward, and lifts me into his embrace.

Our kiss is desperate as our lips and hearts join together. I am drunk with his taste, my tongue sliding across his, my teeth pulling on his bottom lip before I sink further into him. His passion intoxicates me until I float out of my body to watch the scene before me.

We are in a Maxfield Parish amber-dipped landscape redefining the cinematic kiss. I imagine we are near the edge of a cliff with the world laid out before us. The sun is about to sink behind the horizon while we hold onto each other, bracing against the wind of all our past experiences as they whip past us. It's a masterpiece. This moment should be in an elaborately gilded frame hanging in the fucking Louvre.

He whispers my name and kisses me again and again. His hands run over me, stirring the desire that pulses through my veins. We both moan, and the blending echo of our voices reminds me that this is not a dream. He pulls me firmly against his body of sinewy muscle, flesh and bone, and I feel his arousal pressed hard against my flat belly. There is no question as to how desperately he wants me. His mouth is warm and wet, hard and soft…I want to crawl inside this moment and live there suspended, so this feeling never stops.

_Oh my God._ This is really happening and it is a million times better than all the times I lay in bed imagining it. I open my eyes and look into his, and we both smile like two kids who just unearthed a pirate's buried treasure.

"Oh Bella, your lips…" he sighs happily.

"You are a mighty fine kisser too…world class, really."

"Well, it's all about the inspiration…you are my muse."

His confidence renewed, our next kisses are pure sex, his hot slick tongue penetrating my mouth. I love the way he strokes my sides then slides his hands down to my ass so he can pull me even closer. He moves us back a step and turns me so that I am up against the wall. This time he pushes his hardness against me gently, yet pressing firmly. He is struggling to contain his fire but I want to open the cage and let it out so it can burn over me. My need is surging in waves to where I am not even sure my legs will hold me up.

_Slow down, Bella, breath. _

My body is howling for him as I resist the overwhelming urge to push him down on the bed and straddle him. My ache to feel him pulsing inside of me is defining every movement I make. I don't have to tell him what I want because he already knows, every caress a pointed clue, every look a peek at my steadfast desire that has sat in the corner for months waiting to play.

"The way this feels, Bella…I'm don't ever want to let go of you."

"Then don't," I whisper, the idea so exciting the words almost catch in my throat.

He keeps me just enough at bay so that he can slide one hand up to cradle my head and contain me while we kiss, his tongue artfully moving over mine and rendering me speechless. His other hand feverishly kneads my breast, preparing my nipple to find it's way to his hungry mouth. He is making it clear he is going to savor every moment of this.

He pulls away for a moment, and we both gasp for air. His pupils are fully dilated, his color flushed. He cradles my face in his hands as his chest heaves.

"Slow, baby. I'm going to do it right this time. I'm not going to mess this up." He pants and his voice is low and dangerous. His grip on me tightens. "And as much as I desperately want to rip your clothes off and fuck you, what I want even more is to slowly make love to you and show you what you do to me. You own me, Bella."

My heart pounds so loudly I imagine he can hear it. My lips press to his ear. "As you do me," I whisper. He moans loudly in response.

I scrape my teeth along his neck and stroke his thighs, feeling the muscles tighten under my fingers. I work my way to his center and slowly press along the outline of his cock as it throbs under my fingertips. Does he understand that when I touch him it feels like my hands have come home?

He sinks down to his knees and holds me, his face pressed into my belly. He is overcome with emotion as I struggle to contain my own.

"Are you ready for this, Bella…are you sure you want this? If we go any further I won't be able to stop myself."

"Yes, I need you Edward," I moan. "I need you so much."

I look down watching his determined hands as my jeans and panties are slowly pulled down across my hips and thighs as kisses are scattered across my flushed skin. He sighs and looks up at me with such a tender expression that my heart skips. Reaching up, he slides his hand between my legs, where he meets heat and incredible wetness. He moans at this affirmation of my complete arousal.

"You're so wet for me," he states in a low voice.

I nod slowly, my eyes close. "If you only knew how much I want you."

"I think I'm getting a pretty good idea."

When he puts his mouth on me and slides his tongue between my folds, I thread my fingers into his hair and pull him to me. He bows to the force between us like a devout man taking communion. I can't imagine how, but I am so electrified that I already feel as though I am going to fall over the edge. With my eyes pressed shut, all I know is his tongue against me, but I finally look down to watch him as his rhythm builds. He tips his head back and observes my reactions with his glowing green eyes while his mouth continues to pleasure me, creating sensations of lustful devotion to my very core. He moans and his eyes roll back in pleasure, and this is what sends me into a spiral. My legs start to tremble, and the searing heat rolls over me as I explode in orgasm.

_Oh my God._ In the highest peak of climax the flash of ecstasy blinds me, and I start to fall forward. He reaches up and his strong arms grab my waist, holding me up as I shake. Once I begin to breathe again and my body calms, he slowly lifts himself, kissing his way back up my belly and pulling me into his arms.

"Oh, my God, Edward," I moan appreciatively. "Oh, my, God."

"Bed," he groans smiling as he holds my limp body, pulling me along. He rips the cover and sheets open, and when he returns to me I reach up to kiss him, his mouth tasting like a blend of mint and my arousal. My last bit of clothes are abandoned so that the next kiss is accented by my hard nipples skimming his naked chest. We both sigh at the poetry of skin against skin-only inches separating our hearts.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers running his fingers along the sides of my face.

"And you," I moan.

"Me?"

"You're a Greek God…an Italian masterpiece. I'd take you over Michelangelo's David any day."

"Well I'm definitely warmer to the touch," he teases.

My mouth finds its way to his chest, and I graze over his nipples lightly at first but then harder, spurred by the heady power as I feel what it is doing to him. He is panting, and he takes my hand and presses it against his arousal that is tightly strained against his jeans. And with that I sink until I am sitting on the edge of the bed so I can focus on getting his jeans off. After all of this time I am finally going to see him and stroke him, and I fumble with the button and zipper like a child trying to tear open a present Christmas morning.

"Can I help you?" he laughs as he watches me struggle.

"Yes," I huff, too anxious to wait as his hands do quick work over mine.

When we have finally pushed his pants and boxers off, I am momentarily taken aback, trying to imagine how I will be able to take him in. But that fear is immediately pushed aside by lust as I run my hand up and down his impressive size and then guide him towards me so I can roll my wet tongue around the head. He gasps, and when I look up at him his eyes are as wild as a feral animal. My arousal peaks again as I suck him into my mouth, pausing to watch him. As he looks down, and despite the dark lust in his gaze, he holds my head gently, running his fingers through my hair.

"Mmmmm"

"Baby, your mouth…" He moans again and his head falls back as I feel him pulse against my tongue. My tongue swirls again and I suck him in deeper. He suddenly pulls back. "It's too much…I need to be inside you first."

I don't need convincing, so I release him then slide back across the sheets. Each moment now is preserved in my heart, a high definition film of our lives that shifts from slow motion to high speed and back to slow again. He reaches out to take my breasts in his hands, and as he crawls up on the bed his mouth replaces his hands, kissing and sucking so that it twists me up again with my burning need for him. I cradle his head lovingly before he gently pushes me back against the pillows.

He is momentary distracted. "Condom." _God, I hope he has one._ I am panicked at the thought that he might not. He reaches down to the floor and grabs his backpack, frantically pulling stuff out and throwing it on the floor. Finally, after digging around in the bottom of the inside pocket, he pulls a strip out. We are victorious. "Yeah!" we both cheer.

He kneels before me as my legs part, and he hands me the foil packet. As I tear it open he strokes himself, never losing eye contact with me. He is so damn sexy with his dark desire, yet his loving expression is a homemade valentine made just for me. I carefully roll the condom down over him before falling back against the pillows. I have never been more ready.

"I've waited so long for this," he whispers to me as he runs his hands down the inside of my thighs, opening me up like a book of dark delicious secrets. Then he leans over, moving upwards until his lips are on mine again. The kiss is full of reverence, and when he lifts himself up I can see the adoration shining in his eyes. The tip of his cock is up against me, and although I could arch my hips and begin to take him in, I want him to lead us there. But first there is a long pause, and he looks at me and softly says the words I have been waiting for…always hoping to hear.

"I am so in love with you, Bella."

My heart soars, and I look in his eyes and see Edward for the very first time. I see the joy, the tenderness, and I see that the man he had abandoned so long ago has finally returned home.

"Tell me again, Edward." I whisper, as I pull my legs even further apart for him-calling him to me.

Never even blinking, his eyes gaze into me as he presses himself against me and begins to push into my wetness.

"I…"

I am spreading and pulling apart for him. I groan with the most intense pleasure as I take everything he is offering me.

"Love…"

He gasps, his eyes rolling back, but then he gazes down at me again. His eyes are windows that I can peer into and see his full heart. He pushes harder as I clench around him. Nothing has even remotely felt like this.

"You."

He moans as he sinks all the way into me. The fullness is the most exquisite thing I have ever felt.

I am flying, and I push my hips up to take him in that much more. Edward stills, his eyes widening with the overwhelming sensation. In all the ways that count this is the first time for both of us, and he is full of wonder to finally give the love he had stored away.

I reach up and cradle his handsome face with my hands as my eyes fill with tears again. "I love you too, Edward," I moan happily, "with all of my heart."

A smile explodes across his face, and I can feel his bliss surround and lift us.

We are whole.

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_**Are you as happy as I am right now? You guys are champs for being patient with our star-crossed lovers…It only took 35 chapters to get to the lemony love…is that some type of fanfic record? And just in case you are wondering Work of Art isn't nearing the end yet…there is still more story to tell.**_

_**For the next period of time I will be doing updates every Saturday.  
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_**Now let me know what you think…I'd really love to hear…**_

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	36. Chapter 36  My Brilliant Mess

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author, abstractway. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization.©2010 abstractway. All rights reserved worldwide.**

_**Thank you CallsignC30 for your wonderful guidance and support. A shout out to TwilightZoner and Azu for all your help.**_

_**This chapter is for Trayce whose amazing inner strength, delightful humor in the face of adversity and soaring spirit has inspired us all.  
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**Work of Art / Chapter Thirty-Six / My Brilliant Mess**

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He slowly pulls almost completely out of me before pushing back, sinking down even deeper.

"Oh, Bella," he gasps.

"I know," I whisper as our hips meet. I don't ever want this exquisite feeling to stop. I can't decide which is affecting me more: the realization that we have just proclaimed our love for each other or the fact that this gorgeous man is finally making love to me and it is perfect. Luckily, I don't have to decide; I can just revel in the combination of the two.

His next stroke sends shivers through me, and I hold onto him tightly. I am bound to him now. We are two flowering vines that have grown intertwined. He picks up his pace and kisses me deeply as his thrusts reach all my magic places. I lift my hips to meet his. "Oh my God, this feels so good," I moan, my eyes fluttering shut.

He pushes up so he is kneeling before me and he slows his movements back down. "Look at me, Bella." When I open my eyes the love in his expression makes my heart overflow, a pool lit from within, water gently lapping over its sides.

He softly runs his hands up and down my thighs and across my belly. His touch of feathers and liquid silk shimmers over me, a contrast to his hardness filling me again and again. "You are so exquisite," he whispers. His gaze trails across the curve of my neck then settles on my breasts where lust sparks in his eyes. He reaches out, his fingers skimming my nipples as he pushes harder into me.

My hands wander a path along the muscles etched across his stomach and chest. Desire is burning the tips of my fingers as I absorb the heat from his blood just under his skin. I feel his breath searing through him, his heart pounding powerfully as he tries to hold back.

He slides his hand down to where we meet and his fingers glide over and around my most sensitive spot. He knows how close I am to total surrender.

"You feel so good, so damn perfect, like you were made for me," I chant as he goes deeper.

"I was." He smiles seductively. "Bella, look," he coaxes me. "Watch me go inside of you."

His eyes move down to the point where his cock enters, and I raise up on my elbows to watch too. His size sliding into me as his fingers gently rub just above is incredibly erotic, and after several strokes my entire body contracts tightly before exploding. I cry out as I soar upwards, a comet burning through a black velvet sky.

In that moment my ecstasy overtakes him. "Bella," he calls out to me as he swells, thrusts hard one last time, and climaxes too. He looks fierce as he falls forward, only his elbows and open palms stopping him from pushing us through the mattress straight through to the floor. Yet we crash and splinter across the sheets, seconds passing before all of our fragments slide back together again. There is a gasp for air as we slowly resurface.

Still inside me, he tumbles to his side, pulling me with him and folding me up in his arms.

"Oh, Edward," I moan as he kisses my cheeks, forehead and then my lips.

"I know, Bella, I know," he agrees. "There are no words." His hands run over me as if he's checking to see I'm all still here.

"I love you so much, baby," I whisper to him as I return his kisses. He smiles and pulls me closer. "Tell me again," he demands. I raise up on one elbow, catching my breath as he finally slides out of me. I look into his brilliant green eyes. "I never knew I could feel like this…I never knew love could be this big."

"Oh, with you and me everything is big, my love." He laughs as he runs his fingers through my hair. "And I wouldn't have it any other way." I curl in closer to him, and we caress each other until we fall into a deep, glorious sleep.

..~*~..

I am Gustave Klimdt's pale dark-haired beauty swathed in a patchwork quilt of gold. My breath rises and falls as my lover presses up next to me. Now his fingers push the gilded cloth away and circle my breast and then my belly. His wet lips meet my swollen nipple, his tongue teasing and lapping as I feel the heat burn between my legs. I moan in my sleep, fighting the urge to open my eyes, as I know that when I do the dream will slip out of my grasp.

I can feel his hardness press against my thigh as his mouth continues to pleasure me. He gently takes my nipple between his teeth and tugs before sucking it again and again. His hand is working lower and lower now, finally sliding between my legs. When his fingers slip inside of me, he moans to find me already so aroused. It slowly occurs to me that this may not be a dream, and I wedge my eyes open to find Edward at my breast, his eyes closed and his hand moving over me. I watch him silently as my arousal fully blossoms. My thighs instinctively part for him, and his eyes flash open.

He looks up and sees me watching him. He looks sheepish. "Sorry I woke you, baby. I just couldn't resist."

I glance over at the clock: three-thirty. The moon is hanging low in our picture window. I lace my fingers through his hair and pull him back to me. "Well, don't stop now," I moan. He laughs and moves to my other breast while his fingers push further into me.

"Are you always insatiable?" I tease him as his fingers swirl over me, his lips tightening over my nipple. I am panting, gradually falling completely open and raw.

"No, just for you," he hums as he teases my breasts with his tongue. "I've never felt like this before…I could explode from the impact of it." His fingers speed up as he feels me crest, and my hips swivel up to him. He presses his hardness against me once more, and just the idea of his hunger sends me over the edge. I cling to him as the waves wash over me.

When I finally catch my breath, I gently pull him off my breast and peer down at him. "Now, what about you?"

"Roll over on your side, woman, I'm taking you from behind." He rolls on a condom then spoons right up against me, his sizable erection against my ass and lower back. He lifts up my leg long enough to slide inside my wetness, and he presses all the way up into me. "Fuck this is so tight," he moans as he slowly rocks back and forth.

I gasp at the feeling. "Yes," I moan.

"It feels good, baby?"

"God, yes, so good."

"Okay, while we fuck I'm going to tell you all my secrets."

"We aren't fucking, cowboy…we are making love."

"Yes, we are making love, my hopeless romantic, but we are fucking too. Don't knock fucking…fucking is great."

I laugh and clench down on him.

He moans. "You are wicked, woman."

"Yes I am. Now tell me your secrets."

"Remember the day we met in New York and I took you over to that little Italian restaurant in the Village?"

"Um-hmmm," I moan.

"Well, that I night I dreamed we made love. It was so vivid that when I woke up I thought you were with me. Naturally, I was raging hard, so as I stroked myself I imagined you were on top of me, taking all of me inside of you. In the dream you weren't wearing the glittery tank thing but that plain white shirt I unbuttoned earlier that day. So I imagined that I ripped it open while you rode me. It was so hot that I came almost immediately. After I got out of bed I started drawing you over and over. I worked until dawn. The next night when you brought me to my room, those were the drawings all over the place that you asked about."

_That was me._ A delightful surge runs through me to know he wanted me that very first night. The idea of him touching himself as he thought of me makes me wild.

He moves with more force, and I push back against him.

"You like that don't you?" he asks.

"You have no idea," I moan. "More secrets."

"The next night in New York when I saw James honing in on you, I felt a rage of jealously. That was the night that I knew I had to have you all to myself."

"Really?" I ask, surprised at this revelation.

"Oh yeah. James' infatuation with you made me crazy. It had built up over time, so that night at Jasper's parents when I pulled him off you, I actually think I may have really killed him if you hadn't been there."

I feel a moment of panic at the thought of it. He is pushing harder now, and I clench around him.

"I'm so glad you didn't or I'd be visiting you in jail," I pant in between strokes. "Besides James could never hold a candle to you, my love."

"Yeah, the old man wasn't all that, was he?" This time when he pulls back he pushes back into me with even more force.

"What you should know is that when I would slide into bed at night and lay there wanting, it was always you I imagined making love to…always you as I pleasured myself. Your face would always be the last thing I saw before I came."

"Bella," he moans, his thrusts sharpening. He reaches over and takes my breasts in his hands, and he pants against my neck. I feel him impossibly expand and harden as he climaxes, holding tightly onto me. Once he stills he takes a deep breath.

"Oh baby, " he whispers. "You are really mine, aren't you?"

"Yes, Edward…all yours. And you are mine." I rest my hands on top of his. "My man." I sigh.

I can feel his lips curl into a smile as he kisses my shoulder tenderly. When our eyes close this time they don't reopen until morning.

..~*~..

The light skims over us. We are a tangle of sheets, limbs and contentment. I look over at the clock and remember that we are supposed to meet the group for breakfast in a half hour. I sigh as I watch his sweet expression but then regretfully wiggle out from his embrace and head to the bathroom. I manage to take a quick shower and get dressed without waking him but then slide back on the bed to feather kisses across his forehead.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

His eyes flutter open. He reaches out and pulls me closer.

"Hey, where are you going? Get back in bed," he insists.

I yank the sheets back. "We are meeting everyone for breakfast, remember? Michelle probably thinks I've been kidnapped. I think they'll worry if we don't come."

He rolls his eyes and sits up. "Okay, okay," he grumbles and swings his legs over the side of the bed. When he stands up and walks to the bathroom, I marvel at his body. He is long and lean but muscular in a solid way. He has a great ass too, and I note that later I will have to check it out in more detail. He stops in the doorway and turns around. "Next shower you are coming in with me." And he gives me a hot look before slipping inside.

When we finally head into the dining room, he takes my hand as if it is the most natural thing in the world. I lace my fingers through his, realizing that within moments everyone will see us and the questions will begin. If he doesn't care, I won't either. As we approach the table everyone looks up. Edward smiles as he pulls my chair out and then he slides down next to me and takes my hand again. For a moment everyone continues their conversations until Jasper asks rather loudly.

"What's up, Edward? You look like you are in a good mood."

Sam snickers.

"Damn right," Edward responds smiling. "This is the best day of my life."

The entire table falls silent and everyone turns towards him.

"The best day of your life?" Jasper asks as he looks back and forth from me to Edward.

"Yes, this is the best day of my life because I finally told Bella that I am head over heels in love with her, and you know what? She told me she loves me too!" He grins like a schoolboy. Then reaches over to kiss me. The first kiss is light, but then the next kiss is passionate and inappropriate for a restaurant…and I don't give a damn.

"It's about time," sighs Jasper.

"Hell, yes!" shouts Rose, smiling ear to ear.

"Get a room!" jokes Emmett.

"Yeah, we just left our room, " confirms Edward. He sighs as he finally pulls away from me. He lifts my hand and kisses it before he turns back to the table.

_Our room,_ I repeat in my head, not missing that he used those significant two words.

"Where are the damn menus?" he demands. "I'm starving!"

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After eating breakfast, getting my bags to _our _room, and changing, it is decided that I will ride with Rose to the art show since Jasper and Edward are meeting with a writer from the _New York Times_ at La Posada. Although I knew it was inevitable, the idea of being separated from Edward after finally truly being together is painful. He doesn't look happy about it either, but he pulls me into his arms and promises that he will meet up with me at the show as soon as he can.

Rose waits until we are safely in her car before she turns to me.

"I gotta say, girl, you are a little hard to keep up with. Just five days ago I had to drag you out of bed because you were so depressed that you had been fooled by your stand-in boyfriend who ended up being married. Then at the airport, you and Edward are buddies. I must have skipped a couple of chapters of your book because I missed the part where you and Edward have fallen madly in love. Is it true? Are you really in love with him?"

Listening to it described from Rose's point of view does make my situation sound absurd. But surely Rose knows the truth, and she is testing me. I give her a long look. "Oh Rose, you know that I've always been in love with him. I was just too scared to admit it."

She laughs hardily. "Well yeah, babe, I just didn't think you'd ever admit it…that you would allow your heart to go there."

"Well, that's fair. I've been shut down for a long time, but last night when I was in his arms I don't think I've ever felt happier."

"Oh, baby." She smiles tenderly at me.

"Look, you are my dear friend and you are Edward's close friend. You know better than anyone the issues that have and will create hurdles for us. I don't think for a minute that this will be easy, but I also don't think I can fight my true feelings anymore."

"I'm more optimistic than you think I am about you two," she protests. "Yes, _you_ may be the perfect woman for Edward…you have always known I've thought that but what you don't know is all the ways I think he is good for you. He is brilliant, fun and intensely loyal and he will challenge you. I think you need that. You guys have every possibility of being an incredibly powerful couple."

My heart soars at the idea of it…what we can be together, more than who we are alone. The power of our love can make us more than the sum of our parts.

She gives me a serious look. "I don't have to tell you that you will need to figure out how to deal with his dark side. It won't always be easy-sometimes it will be hell. But show me a relationship that doesn't have to work through crap and I'll show you a facade."

"I'm sure you're right," I agree.

"But enough with all that now. Let's just stay in our happy place and celebrate that my Bella is in love. Oh, and did I mention that he is one great looking fucker. You sure know how to pick a hot man!"

"Hot doesn't begin to describe him," I respond, wildly blushing.

"That good, huh?" She laughs. "Well, I'm not surprised. He is an artist after all."

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Once at the show we put on our badges and grab a map to get oriented as to where everyone is. We are just about to head down the first aisle when a man passing us looks at my badge and stops dead in his tracks.

"Bella Swan?" he asks. He is a big man with unusual coloring-flaming red hair with tan skin smattered with freckles. He has brilliant blue eyes, longer wavy hair, and is dressed in expensive, hip clothes.

"Yes," I answer. "Pardon me, but do I know you?"

His badge is twisted sideways, and he flips it back in place. "No, you don't, but let me introduce myself. I'm Nick Castallani, Senior Editor for Rizzoli in New York. I was just talking to James Alistair about you last week. He let me pre-read your work on Edward Masen, and it was brilliant."

I am stunned, and it takes me a moment to get my bearings. "Thank you, Mr. Castallani." So James recommended me to another publisher. Not just another publisher but one of the most important publishers in our field. For all that I resent about him there are things I will always appreciate; most of all that he believed in my talent. I know that he wanted me to succeed.

Rose shifts by my side, and I realize my oversight. "Please let me introduce my good friend, Rose Hale. You may be familiar with her work."

"Yes, Rose." He shakes her hand. "I am really enjoying your latest paintings from the New York street scenes….very dynamic."

"Thanks, Nick," she responds, pleased.

He turns back to me. "Bella, please call me Nick. Anyway, James and I go way back, and he had suggested you for an upcoming project of mine. I'd love to talk about it with you. How long are you here in Santa Fe? We should meet for a meal or for drinks." I note that he has a very aggressive personality not unlike many of the New Yorkers I have met.

"I'm not going home until Sunday, so I'm sure we could work out a time. How about lunch tomorrow?" After what happened with James, I don't ever want to meet with a publisher again over drinks. I need a clear head, and that means no alcohol of any kind.

We exchange numbers and agree to meet at the restaurant just down from the show at one.

Rose and I walk a few aisles to see what people are showing before heading over to Carlisle's booth. Emmett is talking to another publisher, and Carlisle comes over to greet us. We compliment him on how everything looks, and he is clearly happy with how smoothly set-up went. He has several important collectors scheduled to come over the next couple of days, so the show already feels promising for him. It's still weird for me that he isn't expecting me to work the show, but considering how much smaller it is than New York and with Esme helping, I am reassured that they will be okay without me. Carlisle tips his head and watches me for a second before he asks the question he had been avoiding.

"I saw James at the hotel last night, and he normally doesn't come to this show. Did you see him?"

"Yes, we talked briefly," I confirm. Esme walks up and gives Rose and I both hugs before Carlisle continues.

"He was very upset when I saw him. He looked like hell and was checking out of the hotel. Did something happen? Do you want me to talk to him?"

Just then I feel two arms wrap around me from behind, and Edward pulls me towards him. My heart skips a beat. Carlisle raises his eyebrows suspiciously. Esme, on the other hand, lights up like a Christmas tree.

"Hello, Edward," he says, more formally than would be expected. Esme smiles at him warmly.

"Carlisle, Esme," Edward says casually. I feel his lips press into my hair.

"Well, why don't we talk about this another time, Bella," he suggests and then takes Esme and turns towards someone who has just entered the booth. Rose turns to talk to Emmett.

If Edward feels slighted, he doesn't show it, and he turns me around and kisses me lightly.

"How was your interview?"

"Fine. Luckily he was very organized so it went quickly. It's for a piece including a number of artists, so he didn't need to go into great detail with me."

He puts his arm over my shoulder and leads me down the aisle. I notice every group we pass seems to recognize Edward. When we reach the meeting area at the center of the show he stops and turns towards me. "So is Carlisle upset about something?"

"Well, he saw James checking out at the hotel last night and thought he looked really upset, so he was asking me if I had seen him."

I can tell Edward isn't happy to have James come up at this point. "What did you tell him?" he asks.

"Just that I had seen him briefly."

"Yeah, and Carlisle looked really thrilled to see me too," he adds sarcastically. "I mean, I know he's your stand-in dad and I respect that, but it's not like you are sixteen and have no idea what you are doing."

"Do I know what I am doing?" I tease him. "Is it smart to fall in love with a crazy artist?"

"Yes, when the crazy artist is crazy in love with you." He pulls me in his arms tightly and kisses me with abandon in plain view of the entire watching art world…dealers, curators, publishers, art whores, and his hungry peers. In this simple gesture he has sparked countless questions, destroyed many fantasies, and told the world unequivocally that I am his love. I kiss him back knowing he is my love too. He may be a wild and brilliant mess, but damn it all, he is mine.

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	37. Chapter 37  With Georgia's Blessings

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

**Thank you to my beta TwilightZoner and my pre-readers CallSign30 and Azucena…I appreciate your help and support more than you know.**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Thirty-Seven / With Georgia's Blessings**

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_I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn't say any other way - things I had no words for. ~Georgia O'Keeffe_

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"It's really all about fucking."

"Excuse me?" I sputter.

The six foot Chinese beauty throws her waist length hair over her shoulder and waves her hand over the row of oil paintings. "Dane photographed himself fucking twelve different women and then painted these abstractions from the photographs."

"Really?" I feign interest when all I really want to know is how someone of such insane proportions ever finds any clothes that fit. She is dressed head to toe in black, and when she turns sideways she practically disappears. She opens a sleek black leather notebook.

"Yes, we have already sold seven of the series. He is so hot right now," she says confidently, but then lowers her voice. "He is an excellent investment."

I have wandered into this booth during another visit to the art show, and she has misidentified me as a customer. I pull out my exhibitor badge and put it on. Too bad Edward isn't with me; he would love to hear her talk about investments. I smirk.

Edward has to work the rest of the afternoon meeting collectors and other industry people Jasper has lined up. So I've taken the opportunity to wander the show alone and see what the other artists are showing. Dane Rush is an opportunist, and his gimmick seems to be working if the paintings really are selling-you can't ever know for sure. I thank Tamara, exotic saleswoman extraordinaire, and work my way further down the aisle.

Next I see the work of an artist named Holly Roberts. I find her paintings particularly interesting because they are done over black and white photographs. Her technique leaves a bit of the photograph bleeding through which makes for an interesting juxtaposition. As I admire her work I can tell that someone is watching, and I look up right before the salesperson prepares to swoop down on me. Luckily she sees my exhibitor badge, and she backs off realizing that I'm not a customer. I quickly move on.

On the next aisle I discover an Italian sculptor with marble and bronze abstract sculptures of elegant curved shapes joined together that I find lyrical and appealing. I resist the urge to run my fingers over the dips and swirls of the forms. Luckily the salesperson at that booth is already dealing with someone, so I have plenty of uninterrupted time to enjoy his work.

Everyone is busy with the business and selling of art, which is the complete opposite of what drives the creation of art, and I've come to learn that there is always a struggle for the two to co-exist. Even the most purist gallery owner can find themselves making compromises to make a sale and keep their doors open for business, while the artist has to clear their mind of the preachings they receive on what is selling to be able to follow their heart instead. Edward somehow seems to balance the tug and pull of being true to his vision yet dealing with the business side of marketing and sales…just another reason I find him remarkable.

I smile to myself, realizing that Edward is never far from my thoughts. I am still stunned by the dramatic turn of events in our relationship. It's hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago I was running towards his hotel room in the dark, not knowing if I would be able to have the courage to finally express all that I felt for him. After so many crossed messages and so much ill-timing, would we finally have fate on our side?

But he pulled me into his arms with no reserve and has showered me with love since that moment. He now holds my full heart, and I hold his, and I am intent on being not just his lover but a good partner and friend no matter what rough roads we may face ahead. I am in love and everything I see and everyone I face is now viewed from that different perspective.

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After the show closes at six we have plans to attend a reception for the opening day for Art Santa Fe at the Georgia O'Keefe Museum. A group of us walk over together and then blend into the crowd of art people. Carlisle is talking with Nick Castallani, and I join them to say hello. Carlisle is impressed to hear that I am being considered for another project, and I can tell by the way he is speaking with Nick that he respects him. I'm hoping that is a good sign for what may happen moving forward.

Edward has been cornered by a couple of enthusiastic collectors who are sponsors of the show, so I leave him to navigate his way through that conversation. Instead, Sam motions for me to join him and Rose at the bar. Although Sam hasn't made a sale yet, there is some interest, so he isn't discouraged so far. Rose says she won't be satisfied unless they sell at least six of her paintings this weekend. We all know this is ambitious, but Rose does everything big.

After about an hour of wandering the crowd and making polite conversation, I decide to take a few moments to check out the museum. It is a small, well-designed place, and it is incredibly impactful to have a museum solely dedicated to a single artist's work.

I wander room-to-room taking in O'Keefe's colorful work. Some is abstract, but even the figurative tends to be simple subjects like an open flower or a simple landscape. One of her more unusual subjects is a cow's skull which has become iconic for her and one of the symbols of New Mexico.

I am alone in one of the last rooms of O'Keefe's work when Edward finds me.

"Here you are. I thought I had lost you."

"No, I just thought I would check out the museum. I was done making small talk."

"Oh, I'm with you. These shows are torture for me…too many people over too many days. By the end I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"You could have fooled me." I laugh. "You always seem right at home and so comfortable talking to everyone."

"Hell, no. It's a facade I've built up after years of practice. I may be good at it but it doesn't mean I like it. By the way, who was that big red-headed guy you were talking to with Carlisle?"

"Nick Castallani from Rizzoli. He wants to have lunch with me tomorrow to talk about a project."

"Really?" For a moment a dark look flashes over his face, but he immediately hides it. "Why don't I join you?"

"I don't think so, Edward. That wouldn't be professional, and you know it." I give him a look so he knows I won't tolerate trouble.

"Well, pardon me for not trusting publishers around you."

"Gee, thanks. So that means you don't think my talent warrants him hiring me?"

"No Bella, you know that's not what I meant. I guess I'll just have to try harder to tame the jealous beast that lives inside of me."

"You should, because I only have eyes for you, Edward. You told me you love me, and I love you, and I'm not letting anything or anyone get in our way."

I turn back towards the gallery wall. He hugs me from behind and kisses my neck as I continue to study the painting in front of me.

"Do you like O'Keefe?" he asks.

"Yes, it's funny though. She seemed on the surface to be such a tough woman, but her work is so soft and feminine. Do you like it?"

"I've never been much of a fan, but I think I'm seeing it anew tonight. I wouldn't say it is feminine so much as sensuous. I mean, this painting you are looking at reminds me of you." He runs his hands down my sides and then rests them on my hips.

"Really?" I ask as my eyes wander over the waves of soft color blending into each other. "How does it remind you of me?"

"You really want to know?" He pauses, and I sense that his idea must be sexual, which O'Keefe's work is certainly noted for. I can feel his hot breath on my neck, and his fingers press firmly into the flesh at the swell of my hips.

"Okay, this isn't really museum talk," he warns as he kisses me right behind my ear before lowering his voice. "But this painting is how I see you between your legs. I could run my fingers over the painting's colors and feel your soft folds opening up for me."

I knew the general idea of where his thoughts were going to go, but actually hearing it stirs me to my core. I gasp as heat flows through me.

"Damn, Edward."

"Can I tell you more?" I feel his tongue run along the edge of my ear before he gently nibbles the lobe.

"Please baby, more." I squeeze my legs together.

Inspired by my reaction he pulls me tighter against him, and I can feel his arousal growing. He leans closer and whispers in my ear, "When you let me taste you last night I was in heaven. And now, looking at how erotic this painting is makes me want to run my tongue over you and be inside you again."

"You are getting me all worked up," I whimper.

He takes a ragged breath and continues as he points at the painting. "You are the soft pink, and see that dip at the top? That is where I would start my tongue, then curve along the blue while I slide my fingers inside of you."

He starts to gently bite me on the slope of my shoulder. "You know I would live down there if I could."

"Oh," I moan. "You are wicked to do this to me here in this holy place." I push my backside against him, and he responds instinctively by pushing his hardness back into me.

He sighs at the idea of a museum being holy, but his mind appears to immediately shift back to the situation at hand.

"What about what you are doing to me, Bella? I could barely maintain any focus today because I kept reliving all the things we did to each other last night. Just being near you like this is making me crazy."

I reach behind me and grasp him, confirming that he is most definitely aroused. The thrill that pulses through me takes my breath away. This is all still so new, the idea that I can touch him and hold him and have him inside of me whenever the desire comes over me.

"See how much I want you?" he moans. "I wish I could touch you right now and see if you are wet for me."

"I assure you I am, Mr. Masen. As a matter of fact, my legs are getting shaky. I'm not sure how much longer I can stand here and be undone by your seductive advances."

"But I'm not done seducing you. I'll hold you up, baby," he whispers as he slides an arm around my waist. "I want to talk about this image some more." He turns our focus back to the painting as he snakes his free hand under my blouse and softly circles my breast before pinching my nipple. "See the violet part at the bottom?"

I nod, my breath accelerating. I'm becoming intoxicated by colors that vibrate off the canvases and swirl around us.

"That is the deepest place my tongue can go, and I slide back and forth and kiss each fold until your wetness is painted across my face."

I press against him and close my eyes, imaging him on his knees with his mouth against me. This seduction is encouraging a hunger that can't wait to be fed…but we are in a public place. I speak up half-heartedly. "We've got to stop this…what if someone comes in here?"

"They're making a big presentation up front, no one is coming back here." Now his other hand is under my shirt also, his long fingers pulling on my nipples."

My head falls back against his shoulder. "Oh Edward, you better stop playing with me. I'm serious-I'm not sure how much more of this I can take."

Thank God no one else is in this room, because surely they would be shocked at what is happening. I moan and sway, looking up at the painting completed decades ago by a hard looking woman with a passionate heart. I am falling into the sensuality of Georgia's world.

Edward is equally undone. "Fuck," he gasps as he presses up against me harder. "I want you baby—I don't want to wait." His voice now has an edge to it. "Screw the party-let's go back to the hotel. I need to be inside of you, Bella. Why don't we go before I'm too far gone to drive."

"Isn't there somewhere here we can go?" I am panting and out of control.

He takes a step back from me. "In the museum? Are you serious? After what happened in the studio I would never even consider it. No way." He shakes his head decisively.

I grab his collar and look into his eyes. "I know I sound like a hypocrite, but it's the circumstances, Edward. That time I was crazy about you, but I didn't believe you really wanted _me_, but now I know you do…it makes it completely different. Anyway, didn't you say earlier that fucking can be good too? I know you want me, Edward, so please don't deny me now even if we end up in the back seat of your car."

I can feel his surrender unravel though him as his lustful passion takes hold.

I don't have to say another word-he takes my hand and pulls me out of the room. We head down a long hallway, and he pushes me inside the second room on the right. It says _Research Library _on the door.

"This will do," he gasps as he pushes the door closed and drags a chair over, propping it right under the door handle. Before I can undo my shirt he grabs me and presses me against the wall next to the door.

"God, you make me crazy, Bella, I want you so fucking much." He kisses me hard-his tongue hot and searching as he pushes himself forward. _Oh yeah, he wants me,_ I confirm silently as his erection pulses against me through his jeans. His hands reach up under my skirt, and he yanks my underwear off of my hips and down my legs.

The thrill of what we are about to do is unlike anything I've experienced. I am beyond caring if we are caught. I just want him in a desperate way.

As I grab his belt buckle, he yanks open my shirt and pulls my bra down. The warmth of his hands firmly holding my breasts is startling against my cool skin. The hunger burns in his eyes as he takes my nipple in his mouth while I manage to slide off his jeans and get the condom on.

He slips his hands between my legs and groans when he slides his fingers into my wetness. "Damn, Bella, you do want me, don't you?"

I nod vigorously. "Now," I hiss into his ear. So with a wild look in his eyes, he places his hands on my hips and lifts me up to his waist. I wrap my legs around him. All sense has left me as I moan in his ear, "Please, I need you inside me."

"Hold onto me, angel," he groans as he takes one hand and guides himself towards my wetness. We both are breathless as he lowers me onto him.

He goes deeper than I thought possible, and I revel in the fullness. "Yes," I whisper as I clench all around him.

He closes his eyes and his head falls back. "Oh my God," he moans. "So good…you feel so good, Bella." I run my tongue along his neck and lightly nip him as he presses me against the wall, pulls his hips back and then slams into me.

"Oh yeah," I moan. "Again."

He pulls back and slams back hard.

"So you like getting fucked after all, my love," he groans in my ear, as he continues his magnificent assault.

"You have no idea how much," I agree as I kiss him hungrily, my tongue sliding against his. I get lost in his heat as his hips drive aggressively against mine. He is so fucking hot, and he's holding me like I'm all he has ever wanted.

I feel a strange combination of naughty and powerful, unbridled and sexy, and the idea of Edward pounding into me is almost more than I can take. I am somewhere between art whore and goddess as I moan and thrash while he fills me again and again.

"Damn, you are so wet and tight," he moans. I can feel him swelling and stretching me in the best way.

I let go of his shoulder with my right hand and slide it between us until I am touching myself. Only moments later I can feel myself right on the brink.

"Fuck, you are there…I can tell. Come with me, Bella," he gasps as we grind into the wall. I dig my nails into his left shoulder.

"Edward," I call out to him as my vision goes white hot, my body seizing as he bores into me one last time before his explosive release. We cling onto each other to keep from falling as I tremble from the impact.

As we catch our breath he slowly lowers me to the floor, and the outrageousness of the situation slowly settles on us. We just had hot sex in a museum for God's sake. We are clearly out of control, but at the moment it is something to celebrate.

His eyes are still on fire, but he looks down at me, tenderly brushing his fingers over my cheek. "Was that too hard? I didn't hurt you did I?" He lays his hands on me as if to heal me from the bruising our passion will have rendered.

"Did we damage the wall?" I taunt, rubbing the thick adobe with my hand. He looks stricken with worry, so I kiss him and tease that he can have his way with me in a museum any time. He smiles with relief and kisses me back. After we gently help each other button and straighten up, we agree to clean up in our respective bathrooms and meet back at the bar.

In the ladies room I marvel at the glow of my cheeks and my bee stung lips. My eyes are bright and happy. Evidently all this passion greatly agrees with me. If only before and after photographs had been documented, I would be empirical evidence for the benefits of love and great sex. I wash my hands and head over to the bar to find my man. As soon as I enter the room I see him. His eyes are searching for me, and he smiles sweetly as our gazes meet. Our rendezvous inspired by O'Keefe's seductive imagery is now our secret, and we have no intention of sharing it with anyone.

I slide up next to him, and he wraps his arm around my shoulder.

"You okay?" he asks even though he knows the answer.

"Never better," I confirm. "I do have one question though."

"Yeah, what's that?" He kisses the top of my head.

"What would Georgia think of what just happened?"

"Oh, I would guess that she would be most pleased. I think she was a gal who knew how to enjoy the important things in life."

"Mmmmm," I moan in agreement as Rose and Emmett walk over and join us.

Rose tips her head as she watches me. "You look really happy, baby. Is this your doing, Mr. Masen?" she asks Edward.

"Yes, I would love to take credit for making her happy."

"Well, you do," I assure him.

Rose's eyes dance and a smile spreads across her face.

"Are you guys joining us for dinner?" Emmett asks. "A bunch of us are heading over to Maria's."

"No, we've got other plans," he responds before turning to me. "As a matter of fact, are you ready to go, Bella?"

"Sure," I respond, wondering what he has on his mind.

Without another word he takes my hand and pulls me out of the museum. As we reach his rental car he turns to towards me and presses me against the door. "I just need time alone with you. Enough with all of the business-talking heads, meaningless facts, and shrill voices crowding up my head. I love being with our friends, but I just want to hold you quietly and be reminded over and over that you love me and you are my girl."

I reach up and kiss him tenderly. "Sounds wonderful, let's go."

.

Back at the hotel, I wait in the lobby for a minute while Edward scores a bottle of Pinot Noir and two glasses from the bartender. He also orders some food to be delivered to the room. We throw a bunch of pillows on our deck and sit under the stars sipping wine and nibbling on shrimp and an assortment of appetizers. We talk about everything from the show to our childhoods, and eventually we gravitate into each other's arms, kissing and petting until arousal overcomes us again.

I push him back against the cushions and slowly undo his jeans until my hand is around his erection. _God, he is so perfect._ He watches me run my hands up and down his length, and he folds his hands behind his head in surrender. He is mine to take. So with the boldness from the wine edging me on, I stand up and slide off all of my clothes as he gazes at me, his eyes dark and wanting. My alabaster skin glows in the dim light. He wants to touch me desperately, but he knows waiting will bring greater rewards.

For a moment I look in the distance as the night air paints the dreamlike landscape. All of my senses are intensely awake. I can hear leaves flutter with the soft wind, I can taste his kiss lingering on my lips, and I can smell our arousal, primitive and unyielding.

"You are a vision, Bella, he whispers. "Stay there for a moment so I can take you in."

I am gloriously naked in the moonlight, and I take a moment to enjoy the feeling as his eyes skim over me the way an admirer would study a favorite painting. But as much as I enjoy being appreciated, what touches me deeper is the way his lips part and his breathing accelerates. I can feel the hunger rise off of him in waves even though he is trying to stay calm and wait for me to make my next move.

"You have me captive…what are you going to do with me Bella?"

"I'm going to take what I want, so don't try to put up a fight. This is about me now…what I want."

"Hmmm, what you want…I like the sound of that. I wouldn't dream of fighting you because I know you will win."

"Smart man," I whisper. "See, there is so much more to you than just being a sex god."

He smirks but allows me to play with him.

I pull his jeans off, crawl over him and straddle his muscular thighs. I feel a soft breeze rustle past us, brushing my long hair across my breasts, and I close my eyes wondering when I have ever felt this good.

I look down and smile to see his cock beckoning me. My hands wrap back around it lovingly and stroke him while we gaze at each other.

"Mine."

"Yours," he confirms as he pulses in my hands.

Finally, I pull the last condom out of his pocket and make a ceremony of putting it on, first rolling my tongue over him and taking him in my mouth until he is begging to be inside of me. I slide the condom down inch by inch as he swells harder in my grasp.

"I'm going to take you now. Are you ready?"

He nods, his eyes wide and trying to underplay their delight.

I rise over him, and he puts his hands on my hips as I lower myself onto him slowly. For a moment I wonder if I can handle all of his length, but my body opens up to him until my thighs rest on his hips. I take a moment to catch my breath, and he looks overcome with it all.

"Yes," I gasp. "Now, tell me how this feels."

"Oh my God, Bella, you feel so perfect. It's like we were made for each other." His hands are still on my hips as I rock slowly over him.

I roll my head back with the sensation of fullness, and I imagine we are invisibly joined together now, and the only truth is when he is inside of me.

Making love. Two words never meant more.

"Tell me another secret," I call out as I lift my hips higher and push back down on him with purpose. He pulls me down over him until my breasts are within reach, and his tongue plays with my nipples as I moan and grind over him.

"You are distracting me…I want another secret!" I demand as his mouth closes over my breast and sucks hard.

I push up and my breast rises out of his reach.

"Can we come first?" he pleads as he reaches between my legs and strokes me.

"No," I insist. "Secret first, nirvana after."

"You vixen," he scowls as he trusts his hips upwards hard. He pauses for a second than continues in between panting. "Okay, remember that night you were robbed and spent the night with me in Malibu?"

I nod my head and swivel my hips over him slowly to encourage him.

"Do you have any idea what it took for me to keep my hands off you that night?"

I tighten all around him until he is moaning.

"Fuck baby, I had to get out of bed twice to go take care of myself while you slept next to me. I thought you woke up the second time I got back in bed, and I was hard again with wanting you. Why do you think I got up and ran the next morning?"

Even though I know that is a little weird considering how distraught I was that night, I still find this secret so fucking hot that I feel myself peaking.

"You wanted me," I state simply as I move faster over him

"I told you, woman, I always wanted you." He watches me crest with wonder in his eyes, and he pulls me down hard over him. I begin to howl as my orgasm starts, and he thrusts up as I push down.

"Yes Bella, I've always wanted you. Always…" he gasps, then joins me as we soar to places Georgia dreamt of. The moon shimmers over us, silver and soft. We are edged with light and full of beauty as he holds me up towards the open sky.

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_**The Georgia O'Keefe painting that inspired Edward and Bella is on page 8 of the forum if you'd like to see it: **_the Work of Art forum http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

Remove spaces and turn (dot) into .

_**Update next Saturday, teaser on the forum Wednesday.**_

**Thanks so much for reading Work of Art. I love hearing from you….**

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	38. Chapter 38  My Fucking Faux Pas

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

**Thank you to my beta TwilightZoner. And a special thanks to CallSignC30 and Azucena…you give me encouragement when I need it the most.**

Also a big thanks for whomever nominated WofA for the Glosp Awards under the category: Story you "drop everything and read." Thank you! You guys have to check out the outrageous homepage photo (no kids around alert) http:/ glospawards (dot) blogspot (dot) com/p/vote (dot) html There are so many of my favorites nominated...check it out and vote!

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**Work of Art / Chapter Thirty-Eight / My Fucking Faux Pas**

_The course of true love never did run smooth._  
_~William Shakespeare_

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Edward and I fall asleep in each others arms under the moonlight until a chill sets in and we make our way back inside to our bed. The next morning we hide under the covers as long as possible, even ordering room service to put off dealing with the outside world. We are both pretty wiped out from the last couple of days so it feels good not rushing off anywhere just lying in bed, eating French toast and bacon and watching old Looney Tunes cartoons on our TV.

Finally around noon we know we have to face reality as I am meeting with Nick Castallani at one p.m. and Edward has an interview at two-thirty. I can tell he isn't happy about my meeting because he asks a bunch of suspicious questions about it but at least he offers to drop me off on his way to the show.

In front of the restaurant I kiss Edward goodbye and as I slip inside and approach the reception area to meet Nick, a wave of panic comes over me. Will I be able to be successful with my writing a second time? Was Edward's book just a fluke…a flash in the pan? I take a deep breath and push myself forward.

The hostess assures me that Mr. Castallani is already here and she leads me to his table where he has spread out an open folder, a pad covered with notes and large Montblanc pen. A half empty cup of coffee, several empty sugar packets and glass of water complete the mess he has created in a matter of minutes. In my mind I decide to title the scene _Still-life of a Very Busy Man._ He is looking down while his fingers blur across the face of his iPhone.

As I approach the table he lifts his face up and nods.

"Bella, good." He points to the chair opposite of him. "Here, have a seat."

"Something to drink?" the waitress asks politely.

"Iced tea please." I sit down and place my Filofax agenda book on the table.

He finishes up his text, sets the phone down and looks at me more carefully.

"So, as I indicated earlier, I have you in mind for an important project. But first I'd like to start you with something smaller so I can see if you live up to your hype."

"Hype?" I question, baffled.

"You are new to your work being published but you already have fans, Bella. As I'm sure you can imagine that is not a victory easily won with this damn crowd."

"Well, I really appreciate the fact that you are willing to take a chance on me. I do believe my enthusiasm and dedication helps balance out my lack of experience."

"Hmmm...well, Alistair said that you are smart and tenacious…but of course he knows that's what I would want to hear."

"Did he tell you that my deadline got pushed up by two months in the middle of the project, and I still made the deadline?"

"That's impressive," he acknowledges. "He also said he didn't have to heavily edit you."

"Well, he was great to work with." I pay extra attention to maintaining my composure so there is no hint of any thing else between James and myself.

"Look, what is most important to me is that you have a fresh voice. You bring a lot of emotion into your writing which is unconventional but works surprisingly well."

"To me art is emotionally driven, so why shouldn't the writing that accompanies it be as well?"

He studies my face for several moments and then mysteriously smiles while he closes the folder. "Why don't you check out the menu? Let's order, and then we will continue."

As we eat he explains how he likes to work. There will be no coddling working with Rizzoli. My first assignment will be a ten page piece on photographer Cindy Sherman's traveling exhibit that is opening at the Smithsonian in Washington D.C. next January. I am excited at the idea of working on a project about a woman artist for a change.

We are halfway through our enchiladas when I see something in the corner of my eye. I turn my head just as Rose and Edward approach our table. Edward is watching Nick carefully and doesn't even look at me. I am too stunned to speak.

Rose looks genuinely surprised to see us and speaks up first. "Hey Bella, Nick, good to see you again." Nick reaches over and shakes her hand. She turns and motions to Edward. "Nick, this is Edward Masen."

I see Rose look at Edward suspiciously. It seems she is just realizing she has been used as a pawn in Edward's plan to interrupt my lunch with another man.

"Edward," Nick booms. "Bella and I were just talking about your book. Great work. You must be so pleased."

Edward shakes his hand. "Yes, you have no idea how pleased." He finally turns to me and smiles and I glare back at him. This is no fucking coincidence; he came here to watch me. My rage is building.

"How's your lunch, Bella?" Edward asks. "We were going to eat here…maybe we could join you."

"The food is delicious," I respond as I push my plate away. My stomach is now flip-flopping and my appetite is gone. "Actually you guys, Nick and I are having a business meeting so why don't I catch up with you later."

"Yes, I'm going to have to leave soon anyway. I have another meeting in a half hour," Nick adds. But good to see you again, Rose. And it's great to finally meet you Edward. Here's my card. I received a proposal this week for a book that could include you. I think we should talk about it so why don't you contact my office next week, and we will set something up."

Although Edward is pissed that we are brushing him off he takes the card graciously. "Okay, thanks Nick." Their parting handshake is a little aggressive for my taste.

As they turn to leave. I can see the darkness flaring in Edward's eyes, and his hands are in tight fists. He pauses for a moment.

"Oh Bella," he says as he turns back. "I ran by the drugstore on the way here, so we are set."

Rose pulls on his arm and drags him away as Nick looks at him and then back at me.

_Condoms._ I am going to fucking kill him. How could he do this to me? It's taking everything I have right now not to chase him down with the butter knife. Why didn't he just tell Nick that he had fucked me four times in the last twenty-four hours and I am his art-whore? I'm sure that is how it looks. Does he have no regard for my professional ambitions?

"So I see you and Masen worked well together." Nick smirks.

"I assure you it was professional, Nick," I stammer. "But we have become closer since the project ended."

"Well, he's a live wire," he chuckles. "Good luck with that one, Bella."

The waitress comes back to our table and fills his coffee cup again.

"Look, you are new at this and I'm sure you have a lot to learn. I would strongly suggest not to mix business with pleasure. So I have to let you know that I won't tolerate fucking around on my projects. Are we clear?"

"Abundantly." I respond, horrified.

"I have to tell you, I like working with new talent. It keeps things interesting. So every once in a while I like to take a chance. It seems like your talent is worth gambling on despite that faux pas."

It doesn't feel good to be spoken to like a child and have my new relationship described as a faux pas but I bite my tongue. I really, really want this job.

"Well, I won't let you down, Nick."

"I'm counting on that," he booms as we gather our things and move towards the front of the restaurant. I shake his hand, and he hands me the folder with my first assignment.

After instructing me to schedule a call a week from Tuesday he heads out the door and I lag behind explaining that I am going to stop at the restroom. By the time I get through the ladies room door I am shaking with fury, and I grip onto the edge of the counter trying to regain my composure. I am so stunned by Edward's juvenile antics that I don't even know what to do. We are less than two days into a relationship, and he just tried to sabotage a huge work opportunity for me. This alone is reason enough to break up with him. _Fuck._

I debate whether to head back to the show but I'm just too angry, and I don't want to run into Edward and make a scene. I decide to go back to the hotel to figure out how I'm going to handle this. Even though Bishop's Lodge is up a low hill about five miles distance from the restaurant, I decide to walk to clear my head.

By the time I get to Edward's room I am hot, sweaty and tired so as I pull the key hard through the slot I decide to take a shower. When I step inside the first thing that hits me is that the room is dark. All the blinds and curtains have been pulled closed. When I turn on the lights I gasp because Edward is sitting in the chair silently waiting. A number of charcoal drawings are scattered in front of him. There is charcoal smeared on his hands and arms, left cheek and his chest.

"You scared the hell out of me," I gasp. "What are you doing here?"

"Where have you been?" he demands. "Why haven't you answered my calls?"

"You know where I was, and my phone was turned off. You crashed my party, remember?"

"That was almost two hours ago. Where have you been Bella?"

"I walked back from the restaurant. Where the fuck do you think I was?

"I called over at the show and no one had seen you. I thought you were still with Nick."

"Doing what?"

"Precisely" he snorts.

"Are you fucking serious? You think after the last twenty-four hours, the way we made love and the fact that I told you I was madly in love with you means nothing to me…that I would go fuck around on you? Are you seriously questioning my being faithful to you?"

He sits silently looking straight ahead, his face twisted with anger.

My voice elevates to a screech. "How dare you! How dare you question me! How dare you make me look like your whore in front of Nick!"

"He needed to know that you belong to me."

"I don't _belong_ to you Edward. And if this is your idea of what love is, I won't even_ be _with you. What you did back there could have destroyed this opportunity and damaged me professionally. Are you really that selfish to not have any regard for my career?"

"I've heard things about him. I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

I look at him and realize that his hair is more wild than normal, and his eyes are wide and crazy. I would think he was on drugs if I didn't know him so well.

"Do you actually think that because I dated James that I am going to date every publisher I work with? What about the fact that I thought I was with you? You are acting like a fucking caveman."

"What in the hell do you mean you _thought _you were with me?" he roars.

"The guy I fell in love with would never do this to me. I don't know who in the hell you are."

I look around frantically as the walls feel like they are closing in on me.

"I'm done with this conversation. I'm not going to put up with this crap." My instincts take over, and I turn to flee out the door. As I turn the handle I feel him upon me. His hand slams up against the door so that I can't open it.

I push against him. "Get off of me. I want out of here, damn it!"

"No, you can't leave," he howls. "You can't leave me, Bella."

"What is wrong with you? How can you treat me like this?" I turn towards him and push him away.

"Because I fucking love you and I can't lose you. It makes me crazy to have someone like Nick after you." He is looming over me, and the heat from his fury is searing my skin. He is squinting hard and clenching his teeth as his chest heaves. "I lost you once, and I can't go through it again."

I look up into his eyes so he knows I mean business. "I have no interest in Nick, nor he in me. This is ridiculous. If this is what our relationship is going to be like Edward, I'm going to have to leave. I mean it."

"No!" he pants, the look in his eyes haunting me. His face is now just inches from mine.

"Yes," I gasp. We are even closer now.

He takes my shoulders with his hands and pulls me against him roughly. He presses my forehead against his and growls, "Fuck no, Bella." And before I can respond his lips are on me, desperate and hard.

I try to push him away but the fury morphs into lust as my all-consuming desire for him betrays my own logic. Even though I want to slap some sense into him instead I am kissing him back. My fingers lace through his hair and grab onto it hard. I snap his head back and bite his neck before my mouth is on him again.

"Damn you, Edward," I moan as I try to push him away again. "I'm so mad at you. I may even hate you right now."

"Go ahead and hate me...as long as you don't leave me, Bella," he moans as his mouth crashes down on mine again. "I need you, damn it."

"What in the hell am I doing?" I question aloud. "This is so fucked up…what does this mean?"

"You are mine." He growls as he grinds against me and pulls me into his arms tightly.

_I can play caveman too_, I think as my grip on reality starts to falter. I reach down and roughly grab his cock which is fully aroused and straining the limits of his jeans. "So does that make this mine?"

"Fuck, Bella, you know that has always been yours." He puts his hand over mine and presses down on his cock even harder.

"Well, give it to me then. What in the hell are you waiting for?" I hiss at him.

The caveman picks me up in a single swoop and carries me over to the bed. The tug and pull of my fury versus my lust for him never recedes, so my body arches towards him while my hands push him away. It's not surprising that this only arouses him more, and he's panting like a wild animal. I'm sweaty and raw, and I don't even care.

He pulls off his shirt and crawls over me on the bed until he's perched over me, a predator trapping his prey. The charcoal smeared on his skin only makes him look more untamed. He undoes his jeans with one hand while the other holds him up over me. I make fists and press them against his chest angrily.

"I'm so mad at you Edward," I pant.

"Be mad, just don't forget that you're mine," he hisses, barely controlled.

He reaches down and pulls my shirt apart.

Suddenly feeling vulnerable, my hands move to cover my breasts even though I am wearing a bra. He pulls my hands away and yanks my bra down before taking my breast in his mouth. He's too harsh, and I cry out and push him away again so he softens his lips and rolls his tongue over me just the way he knows I like it. The wetness surges between my legs.

I look down and see that some of the black charcoal has rubbed off on my alabaster skin, and the markings shock me. He moves to the other breast as I pull on his hair and moan loudly.

"What about you, Edward?" I cry out as he slips his charcoal smeared hand up under my skirt and between my legs. He suddenly pushes two fingers deep inside me, and the sensation takes my breath away.

"What about me?"

I can't stay focused on the thought as he slides his fingers in and out of me. He watches my expression as I fight feeling the pleasure. So he pulls his hand up to his mouth and wraps his tongue around his fingers. "See, I know you want me, Bella. You're so wet for me."

He pushes himself up so he is hovering over me, and finishes undoing his jeans as our eyes lock in heated battle. I scowl at him and try to kick him. He still has the crazy jealous look on his face as he pushes his jeans down below his hips. He takes his erection in his hand and strokes it as I watch.

"You still haven't explained…what about me?"

"You and all your women? Don't you think I worry every time that I leave that you're going to fuck one of them? That I will come back here and find one of the whores on her knees with you in her mouth?"

He lets go of his cock and yanks my skirt and panties down. "You really think I would do that when I can have you? I want _your_ mouth on me Bella_. You're_ the only one I want to fuck." He suddenly pulls my legs apart and then reaches over for a condom.

As he rolls it on I try to crawl off the bed. I'm lost in this twisted game now and not even sure what I'm still fighting for. I'm halfway onto the floor when he grabs me and pulls me back. "Come back here," he growls.

"No!" I kick him, my foot landing powerfully on his hip.

"Just for that I'm going to fuck you hard," he warns me.

He pulls my legs apart and crawls up over me before pushing himself inside of me from behind. _Fuck, why does it have to feel so damn good?_ I pant as he begins to thrust into me again and again.

"Is this what you want?" he groans. His weight is over me, pressing me into the bed.

"No, I don't want you," I moan as he slams into me. That declaration just makes him take me with more force.

"You're lying…I know you want me. You're so fucking wet."

"If I really wanted you I would want to see you fuck me, not lay here with my back to you and my eyes closed." I know as the words fall out of my mouth how false they sound, and he knows it. He responds accordingly.

He pulls out of me and flips me over quickly, then grabs my ankles and puts them up on his shoulders. This time when he pushes into me it feels as though he goes all the way through me. His eyes reflect the wildfire burning across the sheets. I see the flames flaring in his dilated pupils.

"Okay, Bella, open your eyes wide and watch me fuck you." His hips are moving quickly as he slams in and out of me.

"You're crazy." I groan at him. But I wonder about my own sanity as my pupils roll to the back of my head. I'm trying to hold back because if I orgasm he'll know he's won the battle.

"Tell me you're mine," he demands, as he rises over me.

"Never." I pant.

"Goddamn it all, Bella…tell me!"

"I'm going to find a man who treats me right." I know that is a low blow but I'm beyond caring.

"Like hell you will. He'll have to get past me first."

I dig my heels into his shoulders and so he grabs my calves and pulls my legs down, wrapping them around his hips and spreading me open. "Besides, no one's going to make you feel like this," he pants.

He reaches down and swirls his fingers over me while his hips continue to rock. I try to pull away from him but he persists and watches me writhe under his perfect touch.

"I'm not going to come." I yell at him angrily.

"Yes, you are," he moans as his fingers still stroke me.

"No!"

"Yes, you are… your body doesn't lie."

I can tell that he won't give up until I'm there with him. I feel him swell inside of me and his fingers speed up. All the anger and passion has intensified every nerve ending in my body until I'm humming like a loose wire about to crackle and pop.

As I hold onto my last thread of resistance I make the mistake of looking into his eyes. In his undoing they are the most brilliant emerald, full of desperation, furor and longing. "Bella," he whispers urgently, a fervent plea for my surrender.

"No!" I cry out as the flash fire sweeps over me. Everything is burning and he falls forward as if to smother the flames. I have the vague sensation of his lips on my neck and his pulse pounding inside of me as he surrenders too. But it is hard to focus when I am soaring so fast that my skin seems to be pulling from the g-force.

When we both finally land back on the sheets he gasps for air then pulls me tightly into his arms. There is a long moment of silence as we both try to gather our fragmented emotions. I can smell the fear in the air, and I twist out of his grasp and roll to my side. Just as he spoons up behind me a tear works its way down my cheek. It is the loose yarn in a carefully knit sweater and once the pulling starts all of the carefully crafted beauty unravels. The sobs overtake me.

At first he pulls me tighter against him whispering in my ear, "I'm sorry, Bella…I'm sorry." I can't bear the anguish in his voice and I cry even harder. How could we have broken each other so quickly?

"You know I can't do this," I cry between sobs. "I'm so furious with you. I love you but if you can't trust me we can't be together."

"I know," he whispers. "This is how dark I am, and I hate that I'm so fucked up, Bella." He pauses as if he doesn't want to continue but he finally does. "I came completely unglued when I saw you with him. All of my logic went right out the window. It's killing me that I hurt you and your faith in us."

He strokes my arms as he holds me and continues explaining.

"I want to be better for you. I tried to call my therapist when my panic exploded but her service said she couldn't call me back until four."

I feel a flicker of hope that he reached out for help without my prompting. He knew he was in serious trouble.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you called her. You know I can't be the one to help you with this stuff. Some of it is just over my head, and when it affects me so much, like what happened today, I just get too upset to think straight."

"I know." His voice is low and desperately unhappy.

I slide out of his grasp, and as I turn around to sit up on the bed I pull the sheet around me. When I look down at him I see that he is crying too. I reach my hand out and stroke his cheek, taking some of his tears in my fingertips.

"I'm not Tanya, Edward. I've lived enough life to know that our relationship means everything to me. And when I told you I loved you that means that I'll always be honest about our relationship because it's the only way it'll work."

His eyes close tight as if he is in pain, and I stroke the other cheek.

"Nothing about us is like what Tanya and I had. You are so much more in every way, Bella. That is why I'm completely terrified to lose you."

Part of me is so heartbroken for my Edward. I know he wants to be good for me but it is going to mean fighting so many of his natural instincts. He wants to control and possess me but I'll never allow that. Before I respond to him I take a moment to remind myself that we are at the beginning of figuring out how to be together. Between his past scars and Aspergers and my abandonment issues that incline me to not want to get close to anyone, we both have a lot to work out to be the kind of couple I hope we can be. I place my hand on his chest right over his heart.

"Then help me want to stay, Edward. Give me my space and your trust. I need your respect but most of all give me your love…always."

"Oh, baby." He pulls me back in his arms.

I try to lighten the mood. "That was some hot, angry sex, mister."

He finally smiles and looks at me knowingly. "Hot doesn't begin to describe it."

He looks up at the ceiling for a moment and then back at me. "You know, Bella, I'm feeling a depth of emotion with you that I've never felt for anyone. It's terrifying but exhilarating too."

Despite the fact that we are frightened and raw, this time when we kiss it is soft and loving. When our cheeks touch our lingering tears mingle and slowly we unfold our hearts so that they lay open to each other once again.

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_**To see the photo of angry Edward from this chapter check out the forum page 8: **_the Work of Art forum http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

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	39. Chapter 39  The Enchanted Land

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

**Thank you to my beta TwilightZoner and my pre-readers CallSignC30 and Azucena. Each in their own way has touched this story in ways both large and small.**

**A special hello to my new readers who braved taking on Work of Art despite the number of chapters already posted. Your enthusiasm for the story has been so inspiring.**

_**And finally this chapter is dedicated to my new friend Michael whose spirit reminds me that no matter where we are in this journey a world of infinite possibilities lie before us…and that's a beautiful thing.**_

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**Work of Art / Chapter Thirty-Nine / The Enchanted Land**

_Life is the art of drawing without an eraser. ~Josh Billings_

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We lie in each other's arms quietly, and I try to imagine a time when we are a regular couple, making plans and sharing stories about each other's days. Instead we are all passion and emotion. Facing the light, we are tender reverence writing poetry with fingertips across each other's, skin but in the darkness we are angry, hot sex where we burn through the sheets and finish our war physically electrified but battle worn and unsure.

Finally I slide out of bed and announce that I am going to take a shower.

"Can I join you?" he asks with a tentative voice.

"Would it be okay if I do it alone? I need some time to myself."

He nods and turns away. I can see him crumbling, but he needs to give me the space and he knows it.

As the hot water rushes over me, I make plans to head back to the art show alone. I know he will be talking to his therapist soon, and I'm sure I shouldn't be here for that since I will probably be the number one topic of their conversation. I wonder what she will say about our relationship…after all, last time he saw her we weren't together, and now…well, now we have quickly woven our hearts together and it is a delicate patchwork quilt.

I take my time applying lotion, brushing my long hair until it is smooth, and getting dressed. When I finally emerge from the bathroom he has opened the windows back up and is working with charcoal again but this time on a larger sheet of rag paper. Rather than approach him, I lean up against the wall and watch him work. His handsome face is so serious as his fingers grasp the charcoal and move in fluid strokes. The work is abstract, full of shading, rich with depth and texture.

I admire his concentration and intensity. He doesn't seem to be distracted by me at all. He is just entirely focused on the image before him and letting his spirit guide his hand. His eyes are dark and brooding, and I try to imagine what he sees when he creates. But even more I wish I knew how he was feeling about us at this very moment. Are the darkest parts of this charcoal a reflection of the depths we both just sunk to? Are the scant light areas where he still holds hope in his heart?

After a couple of minutes I start to feel awkward, as if he knows I am watching and he's choosing to ignore me.

"Edward, I think I'm going to head over to the show for a while. It will give you privacy to talk to Cara. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Okay," he says simply as his fingers press the charcoal into the paper with more force.

I wait for a moment and then walk over to him and rest my hands on his bare shoulders. It's as if I can feel all his anguish through my hands. I stroke him across his beautifully defined muscles and then I bend down and kiss him on the back of his neck.

"I love you," I whisper, and then I rise and move to the door. Wrapping my fingers around the door handle, I note that it is cool to the touch but heavy in my hand. Why do I have such reluctance to walk away from him? I am two steps over the threshold when he calls out to me."

"Bella, can we go together to the dinner tonight?"

"Of course." I smile at him. I'll be back in plenty of time to get ready."

He doesn't lift his fingers off the paper but I can sense he is relieved.

"Okay, baby, hurry back." He catches himself. "I mean take your time but I'll miss you. Fuck, this is complicated…I don't know what I mean or what I should say."

I want to reassure him. "I love you, Edward," I repeat.

"I love you too, Bella." He smiles, and I finally feel okay about leaving as I head out under the brilliant Santa Fe sky.

..~*~..

La Fonda is a historic hotel in downtown Santa Fe that is a series of adobe cubes stacked like an uneven collection of building blocks. Their dining room is the consummate classic Santa Fe experience of festive colors and richly flavored foods. We are part of a large group, and they seat us at a long wooden table. I tightly hold onto Edward's hand the entire way into the restaurant, determined that we will sit together. I sense he needs me near him and I crave the same. We end up sandwiched between Rose and Jasper. Everyone is starting to get tired from the long days, but once the margaritas start flowing everyone gets festive. Our group has expanded as well, as a couple of Sam's friends, Jackie and Michael, have joined us for the evening.

There are jars of crayons scattered every few feet and a large sheet of craft paper rolled across the long table. I'm not sure if this is a regular part of this restaurant's décor, but knowing that there is a table full of competitive artists, before you know it everyone is sketching with the thick waxy crayons.

Jasper surprises us with a Chagall inspired image of a couple floating out of window. He explains that it is he and Alice. I take a shot of it with my cell phone and send it to her so she is reminded how much he is missing his special girl.

Not to be undone, Edward draws us in profile with our foreheads touching. It is simple in its design, but my hair is a swirl of color fanning around us. When he is done, Sam scrawls under the drawing _Edward + Bella = love_. Edward grins and I reach over and kiss him as we lean into each other-happy to let go of the anguish from earlier in the day.

Sam's friend, Jackie, is a fashion photographer, and she's attending the show because prints of her work sell in the fine art world. She has her camera out and is continually photographing us and our antics.

Rose draws a scene from our dinner, but it is set up like The Last Supper with Carlisle standing in the center in command of the group. Rather than mimicking the exact positions and personalities from the original painting, she just works everyone into the scene with Edward, Rose, Lauren, Michelle, Jasper and I to the left of Carlisle and Esme, Emmett, Sam, Xio , Michael and Jackie on the other side.

As dinner wraps up, Rose announces that it is disco/funk night at the only gay bar in town, so we decide to head over. It is a small club but the DJ is outstanding because the music is really rocking when we get inside. We find some tables and order drinks before I go to find the bathroom.

I wait in line and when I get back I can't find Edward until I look over to the dance floor. I am surprised to see he and Rose are full on dancing to Earth, Wind and Fire's classic _September_ and they are damn good. It's like Justin Timberlake dancing with Ellen DeGeneres…they both really have their groove on. Just to the left of them, Michael and Jackie are also impressive, moving with such a natural rhythm that I am amazed they aren't professional dancers. I take my seat and watch them as I nurse my drink. I also note that almost everyone at the bar is watching them as well. At one point Edward scans our table looking for me, and when our eyes meet he smiles and motions for me to come join them. I shake my head and lift my glass to them so he nods and continues on. I want more of a buzz before I publically humiliate myself with my dancing. I mean, they are all good enough to be on _Dancing With the Stars._

I love to see Edward letting go. He looks happy, like he is really having fun. After a couple of songs, Michelle cuts in and starts in with Edward. Emmett then pulls me out to the dance floor too. Edward watches me through the corner of his eye as I move with the big guy. There is a comfort I have around Emmett that makes him especially fun to dance with. Gradually we all end up in one big group weaving among the other club goers and moving all over the floor.

Eventually I get thirsty and return to our table to take a sip of my drink. Sam is sitting while waiting for Xio, and I notice that he is watching Jackie and Michael dance.

"Wow, they are really something," I comment as the beautiful couple dance past us.

"He moves like Usher. It's hard to believe he is white," Sam Jokes.

"What's their story anyway?"

"I dated Jackie and I was crazy about her, but we have been just friends now for a couple of years. She never wanted to get too close to anyone, and it made me so crazy that I just couldn't deal. So I have to admit that I am taking perverse pleasure in the fact that she is wild for Michael and she can't pin him down. He may be her number one model now, but he has much bigger plans for the future."

"He's really handsome. I'm not surprised he models."

"And you wouldn't believe the way women go after him, even older women…he charms them all."

Hearing their story makes me feel a surge of appreciation for the fact that Edward wants me just as much as I want him. I no longer have to live with the ache of uncertainty. Just then Xio approaches the table and pulls Sam out to the dance floor.

Rose notices I'm alone and joins me, scooting close so we can talk. "So what the fuck was that all about in the restaurant today at lunch?"

"Yeah, Edward went all caveman on me and wanted Nick to know that I belong to him." I shake my head with disgust.

"Belong to him?" Rose rages. "Has he fucking lost his mind? I yelled at him the whole way back to the hotel, but he wouldn't say anything about what was going on."

"So you didn't have lunch?"

"No, I was too mad at him."

"The weirdest part, Rose, was that we have had the most glorious time together here, and then he freaked out on me. I knew with his and my issues that we would face stuff like this, I just didn't think it would be this fast."

"Yeah, when you operate from fear things can get dark really quickly."

"I know." I nod my head in agreement. "But damn, I love him Rose. And I really want us to try to work these things out."

"You have to try, Bella. You know I tried to keep you from him for a long time, but damn, when I see you together, I realize you can't fight destiny. If I've ever met two people who are meant for each other…it's the two of you."

I give her a hug before we rejoin the party on the dance floor.

..~*~..

When we get back to the hotel, Edward is anxious to get in the shower since he is sweaty from all the dancing. "Come on," he coaxes, pulling me with him.

"Why don't you go ahead, I'll join you in a minute. I think I need a moment out on the balcony."

He turns back to me surprised. "Why, is something wrong?" He searches my face to try to understand my hesitancy.

"I don't know," I say softly, looking down, embarrassed. "Something about the dancing tonight unsettled me…watching you dance with those other women."

"But Bella, you know I only danced with the lesbians." He laughs.

"I know it sounds silly, but there was something about watching you move the way you do with a woman made me think of how you were with other women in your past."

One thing for sure is that Edward understands jealousy, so I know he is taking me seriously.

He steps closer to me. "Oh Bella, but I've never moved with anyone like I do you." Gently stroking my cheek he looks at me with love in his eyes. "You know you are everything to me."

He pauses for a moment, and I watch his eyes light up. "Come on, let me have the last dance tonight with you." He looks over to the bedside table. "Where's your iTouch?"

I walk over to my bag and pull it out.

"Okay, find me that Seal song _Waiting for You_ that I sang you back at the studio that night."

I find the song and hand it to him. He pushes it into the iPod insert on the clock radio and turns it up, pulling me into his arms.

"You know this is _our song_ because I've spent my whole life waiting for you, Bella."

Just then the beat fires up, and though it is a little slower than most of the club music-he starts dancing, taking a step away from me and then back again. There is something about the way his body moves so naturally, his shoulders shifting, hips slowly rocking against me. My body automatically mimics his movements so that we are in sync. He watches me as we dance, his gaze intoxicating as if he has never wanted anyone more than me. At one point he moves his face so close to me that we are almost touching, his lips only about an inch from mine. He runs his tongue along his lower lip and then pulls back, picking up the pace of the beat.

The song is way too short, and just when I am about to throw myself on him the music ends. He pulls me into his arms and gives me a kiss.

"How was that?"

"Now that's what I call dancing," I whisper.

He flashes his seductive smile. "Shower…with me…now," and he pulls me towards the bathroom as his free hand starts to undo his pants.

When we are under the hot water, he squeezes some of the gel into his palms and builds up a lather before he begins slowly moving his hands over my body. I watch him as he works, charmed by the look of adoration in his eyes as he strokes my neck and belly, under and over my arms, and gently massages my breasts. The way his fingers brush over my nipples makes my passion surge. He turns me around and washes my back, spending extra time on my ass. Before he can work down to my thighs I turn around and pull the tube out of his hands. The urge to touch him and have him in my mouth is overwhelming.

"My turn now."

He smiles as I start at his neck and thread my hands across his chest and over his hips. He is already aroused, but as my hands stroke his abdomen and move towards his pelvis, his cock pulses towards me. I squeeze extra gel into the palm of my hand and then, starting slowly, I begin to stroke his erection. He looks down for a moment to see my two sudsy hands grasping him firmly, and he moans before his gaze moves back up into my eyes.

"Hmm," he groans. "That feels so good, baby."

I reach up to kiss him as my hands move back to his ass, and I knead him firmly while his erection presses into my belly. The water is cascading over and between us as I start to trail kisses and small bites down his neck and then chest, finally sinking to my knees as my lips brush over his hips. Even with the mat, the tile floor is hard, but I barely notice as I face his arousal and run my tongue over him slowly.

"Bella," he gasps as I slide him in my mouth sucking firmly while the water flows over my cheeks and lips. When I close my eyes I picture him dancing, and the overwhelming power of my desire for him overcomes me as I take him further in. A rhythm begins to form in my head as he hits the back of my throat, then I slide him out and swirl my tongue over him.

I savor what is mine. Desiring him so intensely, I devour him with my mouth, taking him all the way in again and again. He is watching me, and I give him a wicked smile. The water washes away all traces of modesty so that I gain an unfamiliar boldness to pleasure him completely in such an intimate way.

"Fuck," he pants as he winds his fingers through my hair.

Grasping and pumping the base of his cock, I suck him hard into my mouth. He is resisting his desire to thrust into me, and the tension in his body is delicious. I am in tune to what he reacts to the most, and my tongue moves around him in response. My hand grabs his balls and pulls them firmly down, and he groans so deeply that he jerks in my mouth.

I have no sense of time passing, just he and I connected as the water flows over us. He tries to pull back and warns, "I'm going to come baby." But instead of pulling away, I take him further in so that he can climax with my warm mouth around him. "Ahhh, Bella!" he gasps as he is overcome. He pulses hard several times before shuddering with his release.

He falls back against the slick shower wall, shaky and dazed. Despite being spent, he carefully lifts me up and pulls me into his arms. "That was fantastic." He is grinning ear to ear, and I smile back at him before he gives me a lingering kiss.

We step out of the shower and wrap ourselves in the plush terry towels. He pulls his around his waist and then proceeds to tenderly dry me off. I am aroused, and he strokes me with the towel down my neck, around my breasts, and in between my thighs. He leads me over to the bed and pulls back the covers.

"Lay down," he instructs as he pulls the towel away.

He stands over me. My nipples harden and my toes curl into the sheets. I want him badly. I wait, a bundle of anticipation on the sheets, while he turns on a soft light so he can see me more clearly.

Damn, Bella, you are beautiful. You are my very own Botticelli's _Birth of Venus."_ He sighs longingly. "I want to paint you."

He drops his towel and climbs onto the end of the bed. "Spread your legs for me."

I do as I'm told and he settles between my legs, looming over me.

"Will you touch yourself for me? I want to watch you." His voice is husky and deep. He is already hard again.

I take my hands and slowly stroke my breasts and knead my nipples between my fingertips. I watch him as his lust for me permeates the room.

"Between your legs too, baby" he moans. My fingers move down my belly and into my sex . I imagine that he is touching me, and I lose my apprehension as my breathing becomes ragged. My tongue drags across my teeth before I bite my lip hard and slide my fingers through my wetness.

"Fuck, you are so sexy. What do you think about as you touch yourself?"

"You, naked and hard," I whisper.

"And what am I doing?" His eyes are dark with desire.

"Fucking me." My fingers pick up speed and my legs pull further apart, lifting my ass off the cool bed.

"How am I fucking you?" He leans over, taking my nipple in his mouth and sucks and lightly bites me before lifting up to say: "Paint a picture for me."

I moan as my head tips back into the pillow. "We are on your bed in Malibu and you are taking me from behind."

"Slow and gentle, or hard and fast, baby?" He pants as he waits for my reply. He starts to stroke his erection.

"Hard, fast," I moan. I am losing control.

"Look what you do to me, Bella-just watching you has made me so fucking hard…I'm going to have to have you again." He reaches over and grabs a condom, swiftly rolling it on. "Tell me when you are about to come, and then hold on because I am going to take you, baby." He reaches down and covers my hand with his, adding to the pressure and pushing my fingers even deeper.

"Edward," I whisper, my eyes wide and searching as my swirling fingers edge me closer.

He leans over me so our there are just inches between us. Only his erection presses into my thigh.

"Has anyone ever made you feel like this?" he groans into my ear.

"Only you," I gasp, and he realizes that he has pushed me over the cliff. He plunges into me with force as I am falling. He is fucking me hard, and it is so good.

In the peak of my climax I open my eyes and watch him-his head thrown back, his body arched as he slams into me. As he comes he calls out to me.

"Only you, Bella, only you."

The feeling of satisfaction is indescribable, and later when I finally curl up against him and surrender to sleep, I revel in the feeling of complete contentment. We managed to step out of the dark hole we were sinking in earlier. These moments of light found together we must covet and protect at all costs.

..~*~..

The next morning we are worn around the edges from our emotional journey. It is also intensely sobering to realize that we are returning home today. Part of me is fearful to leave the cocoon we have spun in our hotel room. There is a magical feeling about Santa Fe…what if we have been under a spell which could shatter when we return to the harsh light of L.A.?

As we become more alert Edward seems to sense my fear, and he pulls me closer. "I don't want to leave Santa Fe," he whispers.

"What if everything is different when we get home?" I question.

I notice his sigh is tinged with sadness. "We can't let that happen, Bella."

I want to believe him, but my heart is heavy as we pack up and get ready to leave. We stop downstairs for breakfast and then head over to the hall because Jasper has arranged for Edward to meet with some collectors and a gallery owner from Chicago. While he does his thing I go visit Carlisle and the gang as they wrap things up. Emmett tells me about the antics that continued at the club after we left, which included Xio pole dancing for Sam with a trio of lesbians_. I'm sorry I missed that,_ I think smiling. But then I remember the fun I had with Edward back at the hotel, and I know it was well worth leaving the club early.

On the drive to the airport in Albuquerque I quietly watch the New Mexico landscape through my window. I am powerfully drawn to the blanket of purple hills nestled up to the cloud-strewn sky. I want to get out of the car and run through the fields until either my legs give out or I take flight, but I remain silent as we speed along. I can see that Edward is immersed in his thoughts too as he leads us away from our magic place.

The license plate on the car in front of us says _New Mexico-Land of Enchantment_ and I realize that nothing could be more true.

On the plane he takes my hand and never lets go. He runs his fingertips across my palm, writing me silent notes and outlining simple drawings of animals and stars. I wish I could look into his head and see what he sees. Maybe I'll never understand him, but because I love him, I'll never stop trying.

Emmett and Rose walk with us to the baggage claim but the big moment comes outside the terminal when we realize our cars are in different lots that require different shuttles. He pulls me into his arms, and I drop my bags around us so that there is nothing between us.

"I'll call you tonight," he whispers.

"And in the morning," I demand. Both of our schedules are overloaded this week, so even though I know it will only be a few days until I see him again, any separation leaves me hungry.

"Damn, Bella, what am I going to do without you?"

Before I can respond his lips are on me and I am falling into him. I can't hear the taxis or the chant of worn travelers…all I can hear is his heart pounding against me. I feel tears trail down my cheeks, but I feel silly crying and try to brush them away.

"For fucks sake," moans Rose. "You two act like this is goodbye forever. Enough with the melodrama. We're outta here, Bella, come on!"

I gather up my bags as Rose and Emmett give Edward quick goodbyes and then start towards the shuttle.

"I love you," I call out as I move away.

He stands completely still as the travelers speed past him. The vision of him, his hands in his pockets, his head tipped sideways with a quiet smile and love in his eyes, fills my heart and my mind until I am so full that I can barely move. Emmett takes several steps back, grabs my arm and pulls me along.

He laughs. "Damn girl, you've got it bad."

"Oh, Emmett," I moan as I finally turn away. "You have no idea."

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	40. Chapter 40  I Am His Queen

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

**Thank you to my beta TwilightZoner and my pre-readers, lovely CallSignC30 and my boo Azucena. **

**A special shout-out this chapter to one of the most fabulous babes in fanfic land-RoseArcadia…thanks to you girlfriend, Coffeemate will never be the same!**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Forty / I Am His Queen **

_If I know what love is, it is because of you.  
~Herman Hesse_

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"Bella," he whispers as I cradle the phone to my ear. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I've just been lying in bed thinking about you…waiting for your call."

"Damn," he huffs. "Don't make me think about you in bed. I'll have to come over and keep you up all night."

"Mmmm. What have you been up to, handsome? Did you have a good evening?"

"I haven't stopped painting since I got home," he says excitedly. "I have never felt so inspired. That is what your love is doing to me, Bella."

I sigh, my breath heavy with satisfaction. "That makes me happy. Will you show me the work when I see you next?"

"Yes, I'll show you everything," he says enthusiastically. "You are in my art now. You are part of everything I do."

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Hours later my room slowly fills with light, waking me before my alarm, and I glide effortlessly through my morning. Even Jacob notices the change in me, and I do my best to avoid his probing questions. I'm not letting anything or anyone burst my happy bubble today.

That evening I start my research on Cindy Sherman, but my mind constantly drifts to Edward. We have a dinner date scheduled for Wednesday night, and I can't wait to be with him again.

The next day at work I am surprised when Rose shows up at noon to have lunch with Emmett. She gives me a hug before they head out to eat, and they laugh and joke all the way out the door. Did they become best friends in Santa Fe while I was spending my time with Edward? It's kind of strange to see them together without me, and I am intrigued. That afternoon when Emmett and I have some time alone, I ask him about Rose.

"Hey Emmett, it's great to see you and Rose getting so close."

"Man, I love that girl, Bella, I've always liked her, but I never knew how fantastic she really is. We are like soul mates. When I'm with her I feel like I've always known her."

I am intrigued. Has his allegiance changed? He cuts me off at the pass.

"Don't give me that look, missy. You know Ted is my everything, and Rose loves Lauren like crazy. It's not like that…it's more like she is the sister I always wanted."

"I thought I was the sister you always wanted." I pout. "Have I been replaced."

"Oh baby, you will never be replaced. You will always be my number one girl. But I've got a big heart." He thumps his chest. "I've got room for both of you."

"Okay, I can share," I tease him.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he asks, looking around to make sure no one is listening.

I nod.

"Rose and Lauren have asked me to father their baby."

"No way!" I say, startled. I knew Rose and Lauren wanted children, but it didn't occur to me that the father could be someone I know.

"Yes, way."

"That's serious stuff, Emmett…I mean that's a huge and complicated decision."

He nods solemnly. "I know it is, and don't worry, this isn't something we are going to rush into. We've agreed to wait six months after their wedding before we move forward with anything. That will give us all time to decide if we can make this work."

I walk over to a chair and sit down, watching him carefully. So many emotions play across his open face. I can tell he wants this, and he wants me to be okay with it.

"What do you think, Bella?"

I pause, turning it over and over in my mind. Could one kid handle getting that much love from these people I would trust my life with? Could you find a baby that would be more celebrated and adored? On the flip side, I know we live in an ultra-liberal part of one of the most liberal cities in the world, but despite that it won't be an easy road for them. The obstacles, the prejudices are significant. I reach into my heart and realize that my opinion is steadfast.

"I think they couldn't have picked anyone more perfect."

He charges over to me and lifts me up out of the chair before swinging me around.

"We knew you would be supportive!" he exclaims. "You are the best, Auntie Bella!"

..~*~..

That night I am deeply asleep when I have a vague sense of my phone ringing. I slowly move the phone to my face and blink several times at the screen. _Edward._

"Hey baby," I purr into the phone. "What's up?"

"I'm sorry to wake you, Bella, but I need to see you. Can I come over?"

"But it's the middle of the night, Edward. Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

"I'm just wound up. I haven't slept since Santa Fe. I mean, I've tried, but I haven't really been able to. I've been painting and I can't stop, but I'm starting to freak out."

"Where are you?" I try to hide the concern in my voice.

"I've just been driving around. I'm almost to West Hollywood."

"Come over, I'll be waiting."

I slide out of bed, my naked skin shocked by the cool evening air. I've taken to sleeping nude since my time with Edward, only the sheets cradling me as I sleep.

I wrap myself in my lavender silk robe and wander into the kitchen for a glass of water. Now that Edward is headed over I am glad that Alice has spent the night at Jasper's. Only moments later he knocks on the door, and I feel a rush to know he is now just feet away from me.

As I pull the door open I am startled to see him in this condition. He looks completely exhausted and wired, and although his lack of sleep has worn him down, he still lights up when he sees me.

I grab his hand and pull him inside before trailing my hands across his cheeks. "Baby, you look so tired. Are you okay?"

"I am now. I just needed to see you." He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. His sigh runs straight through me because I know I can sooth him. I will run my fingers across his anxiety and smooth out every wrinkle.

"Come, sit down." I pull him over to the couch. He collapses into the cushions.

He drags his messenger bag over his shoulder, pulling the flap open. "Here, I brought you something."

"What is it?" I ask, always the impatient child.

He hands me two books, and I look down and examine their covers. _Cindy Sherman._ He has brought me books to help me with my research. Something about this simple gesture stirs me to my core.

"Edward," I sigh. I move away from him on the couch for a moment and then lift up and crawl over him, straddling him on his lap. I gently frame his face with my hands. The significance hasn't escaped me that he is trying to support me in my project with Nick. I graze my fingers over his cheeks and look solemnly into his eyes.

"Baby, what made you think to get me these?"

"I'm always thinking about you, Bella." He runs his hands across my naked thighs.

I tip my head and study his face, trying to understand the blur of emotions running across it.

"Besides, I thought they would help you." He smiles and searches for my reaction, hoping that his gesture was the right thing to do.

"Thank you for the books, Edward. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you went out of your way to find them so you could help me."

He looks at me with the most gentle expression.

"I do want to help you. I want your happiness more than my own now. I fucking love you, Bella," he gasps. He is trying so hard to show me what is in his heart.

"I love you too, Edward." I lean forward and kiss him softly as I lace my fingers slowly through his hair. He closes his eyes, and his head falls back against the couch while I make soft circles with my nails across his scalp and feather kisses along his forehead. As he relaxes, I can feel his body and mind completely open to me. It is encouraging knowing he trusts me to help him step out of the dark places.

He runs his hands along my back across the soft silk of my robe before he pulls me closer. I moan quietly. "I've missed you." The next kiss has more fire as I press up against him. I know he is exhausted, yet I can't seem to help the hunger that overtakes me. But I finally remind myself that I shouldn't provoke him but get him to sleep, so I start to move off his lap.

He suddenly takes hold of my hips so I can't move. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to put you to bed. I figure you need sleep more than me grinding against you."

"Bella, I've been awake this long, so being without sleep won't kill me if it means being with you. Please keep grinding." He takes my hand and presses it where his arousal is straining against his jeans. "I don't think I'll be able to go to sleep anyway until I get my fill of you."

I push my lips to his ear. "Really? Can I make love to you, Edward? I'll do most of the work," I gently tease.

"Yes, please," he moans.

As I kiss his neck and run my teeth along his chin, he repeats my name in whispers before he begins to unravel. Our tongues tangle, and I can feel his hardness pulsing as I sink further into his lap. I lift his shirt at the hem and pull up swiftly

"Baby, I need you," he moans. I reach down to untie my belt, and as soon as it's loose he parts the silk panels away from my flushed skin. His eyes widen to see that I am gloriously naked under my robe.

"Oh, Bella," he groans, his voice strangled with desire.

As my breasts skim his chest, I start to undo his jeans and his hands meet mine to help.

"Do you know how good it feels when you are inside me?" I ask as I look down and admire him. My hands move over him, his skin silky, hot, and sheathing steely hardness. No one has ever made me feel such overwhelming desire. He is panting as as I lift my hips and hover over him.

His eyes are filled with hunger. "You really want _me,_ don't you, baby?

"Yes...you," I moan as I press down until he is completely inside of me.

He takes in a sharp breath, closes his eyes, and smiles for the first time since arriving.

As I rock my hips slowly, his head falls back but his gaze never breaks. He watches every move I make as I rise and fall over him.

"This is what I needed…I needed to be inside of you. He pants loudly. "You make me feel so good, Bella."

While his fingers caress me, my speed gradually picks up until I can feel us both losing control. I look down and watch him as his mouth moves over my breasts, taking as much pleasure as he is giving.

He is hit with a surge of energy and grabs onto me, shifting my position so that our friction is just right. When the sensation of climax hits me I feel like I am splitting apart, but I never stop moving, riding it through.

He moans as he joins me. His hands are firmly on my hips, pushing and pulling as he seizes, his teeth grinding and his eyes wild.

When we have crested he collapses back against the couch, panting as I settle back into him. I can tell he's blissfully happy but completely spent.

"Holy hell," he moans. "What you do to me, baby."

I smile contentedly. "Come on love, sleep time." I take his hand and lead him to my bedroom. By the time I get him into bed and join him, he is sound asleep.

.

.When my alarm goes off we are wrapped around each other, and it takes me a minute to untangle myself so I can turn off the damn thing. Edward barely stirs, and I lie for a while and watch him. He is so beautifully untroubled as he sleeps, his face calm and peaceful. My heart swells to see him content after his sleepless anxiety.

I lightly run the tip of my index finger across his eyebrows, down his nose and over his lips. He wiggles his nose and slowly opens his amazing green eyes.

"Bella," he whispers, smiling. "I wasn't dreaming."

I laugh softly. "But it was like a dream, wasn't it?"

He nods into his pillow with a grin on his face.

"I'm going to scrounge something up for breakfast. Any requests, my love?"

He looks at me playfully as he runs his fingers through his hair. "Waffles with fresh raspberries and whipped cream. A double cappuccino and some fresh squeezed juice," he says without any hesitation.

"Hmph, how about Pop-Tarts and coffee with vanilla Coffeemate?" I get out of bed and pull on my robe.

"Oh, you spoil me!"

"Yes, my king. You just lay there in all your splendor and I will bring you my spoils."

I bounce around the kitchen trying to scrounge up something breakfast-like. I find some raspberry jam so I make toast, which is close as he's getting to waffles with berries this fine morning. Next time he spends the night I'm sure I'll have more warning so I can be better prepared. I stir up two bowls of instant oatmeal and cut a banana into it before pouring out the coffee. I load up a tray and carry it back to bed.

"Here we are, my lord," I tease as I move the coffee mugs to the bedside table and find a spot for the tray on the bed while he sits up. We enjoy our breakfast picnic slowly. He eats his toast first and finishes off mine too.

"You are hungry," I observe.

"Yeah, I didn't eat last night."

"Edward, you've got to take better care of yourself than that. No sleep…no food…what the hell?"

"I know," he sighs. "I'm off my balance since Santa Fe. I'm seeing Cara this afternoon, and I'm hoping it helps me get a handle on things."

"It's because of me…of us," I state, the fear creeping up my spine.

His eyes flash at me fearfully. "No, don't say that, Bella. Don't take that on. I mean yes, I've been on a manic high since Santa Fe. But come on, our coming together is huge for me." He gestures between us. "This is the most important positive thing that has ever happened to me emotionally."

"The most?"

"I'm in love, Bella. For the first time in my life I'm really truly in love."

My heart soars. "I'll confess, I've been on a high too. It's like I'm drunk with love."

"That's my girl." He takes our coffee mugs and sets them back down before pulling me into his arms.

"And part of me never wants this feeling to settle down. All I want to do is make love to you and paint, and then all the other stuff can follow."

"But let's fit some eating and sleep into that agenda."

"Okay, my love."

I look over at the clock. "Speaking of which, I need to jump in the shower and get to work. Why don't you lie back and rest some more?"

He surprises me by not protesting and flopping back on the bed. He takes the pillow I was using and curls it under his arm, pressing his face into it and taking a deep breath. "I can still smell you with me." He closes his eyes.

After I'm dressed and ready I go to the bed to kiss him goodbye, but he is sound asleep again. So instead of disturbing him I write him a note and lay it where my pillow was.

.

_My love,_

_It was torture to leave your side this morning but work beckons._

_Thank you for my surprise visit last night. There is nothing better than playing with you on my couch and waking with you in my bed. _

_I miss you already._

_Love,_

_Your Bella_

_..~*~..  
_

We are busy in the gallery, but after lunch I realize that I haven't heard from Edward so I call him. The first time I try it rings and then goes to voicemail, so I wait a minute and then dial again. This time he picks up on the third ring. I immediately realize from the tone of his voice that I woke him up.

"Where are you, Bella?" he croaks.

I laugh. "Hey, sleepyhead. I've been at work for hours. Did you just wake up?

Suddenly he sounds more alert. "Fuck, what time is it?"

"One-thirty."

"Damn, I'm supposed to be in Santa Monica by three p.m."

You can make it, just jump up and get going. There are clean towels in the bathroom if you want to shower. You've got enough time."

"Okay, you're right." I hear him yawn. "Damn, I feel so much better, baby. Thanks for letting me come over last night."

"The pleasure was all mine. Do we still have a date tonight?"

"You bet. Seven o'clock okay still? Our reservations are for seven-thirty."

"I'll be ready. Oh, Carlisle's calling…I've got to run."

"Later, my love."

..~*~..

Just after seven I pull open my front door and gape at the sight of him. Edward is wearing pressed jeans with cowboy boots and a beautifully tailored jacket over a black T-shirt. He is holding an enormous bouquet of garden roses in various stages of bloom. He offers them to me. "These are from my garden." He smiles, noticing that I am also dressed up. I have on a short black skirt with heels and an electric-blue fitted sweater.

"Oh, these are gorgeous." I sigh as I take the flowers and head to the kitchen to find a vase. "I love garden roses."

He smiles as if he's known this all along. He is a different man from last night. He looks rested, his eyes are bright, and he's freshly shaved. I want to run my tongue along the sharp angle of his jaw and then taste his gorgeous lips. It's moments like this that I can't believe he's really mine.

He stands behind me as I fill the vase with water at the sink. Pulling my hair back, he gently kisses my neck and takes in my scent. "You look so beautiful tonight, Bella."

I turn toward him slowly. "And you look devastatingly handsome, Edward. What are you trying to do to me? Cowboy boots…I mean, fuck me now, why don't you?"

He laughs as he pushes my hair over my shoulders and strokes the side of my face. "We're taking it slow tonight, although seeing you like this is making dinner suddenly seem very uninteresting." He slides his hands around my backside and pulls me up against him.

"Is this a special occasion?" I ask teasingly.

"Any time I'm with you is a special occasion," he says softly. "But we haven't been on a real date yet, Bella. So I want to take you on a real date."

"Are we going back to Dupars or the Apple Pan?"

"No, I had something more upscale in mind."

"But I loved those places," I say playfully.

"Next time, angel. Tonight I'm going to wine and dine you at a fine establishment. If I work this right I may even be able to seduce you at the end of the evening."

"Honestly, Edward" -I wave up and down from his head to his feet- "one look at you—my gorgeous man with your arms full of roses, and it was a done deal."

I reach up and kiss him softly on the cheek and then slowly trail kisses towards his waiting mouth. When our lips finally fully meet, they meld together like they have never been apart.

Just when it really heats up though, he pulls away. "You are not going to distract me, woman. I'm on a mission here…real date, remember?"

I raise one eyebrow and sashay away from him, grabbing my jacket and purse.

.

Edward drives to Hollywood and pulls up in front of Café des Artistes where he has reserved a corner table in the patio. The hip waitress with a seductive smile, tattoos up her neck and a killer body, flirts with my man unabashedly, and Edward doesn't give her the time of day. He only has eyes for me.

We order a bottle of wine and linger over our meal, holding hands and talking quietly. I don't know when I have ever felt so happy and so adored. We finish by sharing a chocolate soufflé.

Back in the car, instead of driving home Edward heads to Los Feliz and starts to wind his car up a hill. I am curious but decide to not ask questions so I can prolong the mystery. When we get to the top he pulls into the parking lot at the Griffith Observatory.

"Have you ever been up here?" he asks as he opens my car door.

I shake my head. "No."

"Well, you're in for a treat."

He takes my hand and walks me through the planetarium, a great old art deco building perched on a hill above Los Angeles. There is nothing like thinking about the stars and planets that make up our universe to put things in a broader perspective. I am intrigued by the various displays, but the real thrill is when he takes me to the walkway behind the building.

It is a clear crisp night and the city lies before us, a jewel box lit from within. It sparkles and hums with energy.

"Wow," I gasp as I lean over the rail. "This is unbelievably beautiful." The view sweeps far north to south and all the way to the ocean, a rolling blanket of twinkling lights.

He nods. "It's one of the best views in the city."

He wraps his arm around me and pulls me closer. We move over to a nearby bench and sit down as we continue to gaze out at the city below.

"This has been a great evening," I say softly. "Really, top-notch Edward."

He grins happily. "So, I'm doing this date thing right?"

"I'll say." It hits me that he really hasn't _dated_ for a long time, maybe ever.

He runs his free hand up and down his thigh. I can tell there is something he wants to talk about. I wait patiently.

"You know I had my session with Cara this afternoon."

"Yeah, how'd it go?" I'm trying to sound as casual as possible.

"We talked about trying to find balance when I'm overwhelmed."

"Like how you felt coming back from Santa Fe?"

He nods. "You know, Bella, I'm never going to be _fixed_. All the ways I'm crazy is something I will deal with the rest of my life. I still can't forgive myself for how I fucked up when you were meeting with Nick. I was completely out of control. But I want to have a handle on it—use the tools I'm learning when I start to lose my grip. "

_Is he trying to scare me away? _I shift on the bench nervously.

"I guess what I'm saying is that I want to be the best person I can be, not just for me but for you. I want to be the kind of man you deserve."

I reach over and curl my hand into his. "You know I won't tolerate what happened that day in Santa Fe. But when I see you working on your issues it makes me want to help you through your rough times. I just don't always know how."

"Sometimes it's just being there for me, Bella. Like last night. You didn't try to fix anything or analyze me, you were just there for me."

He sighs and then turns towards me.

"You know what else Cara told me?"

I shake my head.

"That I really need to work hard and focus on being the best boyfriend I can be for you."

"Oh, I'm liking her," I tease.

"You know, for a lot of years I only had myself to answer for. And artists are naturally narcissistic-we think we have something important to say and we focus inwardly in order to create. It's inherently selfish when you think about it."

"Well, I suppose you could say that. But it takes courage to make art and stand behind it. I admire you _and_ your work. I think you know that."

"Yes, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel guilty that you have been the one to keep pulling me out of harm's way. You have seen and learned things about me that I would never want someone to know, and yet here you are…still loving me. I can't understand how I could be that lucky to not just win you but to hold onto you."

"But you've taken care of me too. I need you more than you know, Edward. We can be there for each other."

He sits up straighter as if the idea of my needing him is a revelation. It seems to agree with him.

"Cara says I need to take things slowly, but my heart and my mind want to race ahead with you, Bella. I want to take care of you." He sweeps his hand across the city view. "I want to give you the world. I already have to fight the urge to want to be with you all the time—twenty-four, seven." He pauses and considers his next words. "I wish you would live with me."

I try to stifle a gasp. "You want me to move in with you?"

"Desperately…but I guess that wouldn't be taking things slow, would it?"

I laugh softly. "No that would be foot to the floorboards-fast." I lean into closer to him. "But I love that you want me to. One day…"

But before I can finish my thought he kisses me, and there is so much emotion behind the kiss that I feel stripped in that moment of any hesitation. I fall into him, our big love making me forget for a moment that we are two separate people.

.

Back in my apartment he silently follows me inside, and we walk hand in hand straight to the bedroom. With only the full moonlight to see, we slowly undress each other, stroking and kissing each other tenderly.

He lays me down across the sheets and stands over me, gazing with dark eyes as he lightly runs his fingertips up my inner thighs until I slowly part my legs for him. Once I am completely open, I reach for him as he crawls onto the bed, his tongue replacing his fingertips.

He tastes and teases me slowly, knowing how much I need him inside of me. Is he going to make me ask for what I want? I sense what it must be to be tied in bondage and touched everywhere but deep in my dark place, where I need it most.

"Please," I beg.

He majestically rises up on his knees between my legs. As he opens up the condom packet my fire flares from not just from my explosive desire and the state of his raging arousal but the simple act of him touching himself as he rolls it on. He senses my undoing, and so he strokes himself a bit longer as he watches me squirm and moan.

His fingers dip into me with one hand while the other still grasps his erection. "Baby, you are so wet," he whispers hungrily before guiding himself to my entrance.

I arch my back and spread open further, waiting with my last thread of patience.

"You want this?" He rubs himself back and forth across my wetness as I tremble for him.

"Yes," I gasp.

He sinks all the way into me in one fluid stroke and the tight fullness is glorious.

I wrap my legs around him as he builds a rhythm. Every thrust a declaration, a surrender…a step forward and back. My nails run down his back then dig into his ass so that he takes me deeper still. We moan as we tangle up together. His torso bows, his mouth meeting my breast-teasing my nipples as I beg for more…and he gives and gives. _God, I love this man._

His skin is hot, his expression fierce. Our eyes meet, and I get a glimpse into his soul and the depth of his passion. "Bella," he whispers with reverence and so much love.

I start to fall away from the real world.

Our kingdom extends beyond this room, far past the moat that surrounds our bed. I am his queen, splayed out on the royal bed as he fucks me soft and loves me hard and turns me inside out.

My king's devotion undoes me as we face the bright light, gathering stars in my hair as his fingers caress me…the wind at our feet pushing us along.

Our climax is a crash in reverse, all the broken pieces falling together.

He is mine, he is mine…I am his.

.

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**_I appreciate my wonderful readers...thanks so much for your reviews...  
_**

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**_See you next Saturday!_**


	41. Chapter 41  Delete Contact?

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

**A big thanks to my beta TwilightZoner and my pre-readers, lovely CallSignC30 and **_**she who shall not be named**_**. You guys keep my on my toes.**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Forty-One / Delete Contact?**

_Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell. ~Joan Crawford _

_.  
_

I am discovering that being in love both speeds life up and slows it down. It seems like moments ago Edward and I were curled up on our bed in Santa Fe, and I blinked my eyes and now I am in his arms in Malibu.

Although this isn't my first time in his grand four poster bed, it's the first time as his girlfriend and his lover. I arrived last night after work followed by a long drive along Pacific Coast Highway. By the time I got here we were so hungry for each other that we skipped dinner and took our time christening his sheets. Now it is Saturday, and after sleeping in we are famished. We tumble out of bed and head to the kitchen to make pancakes.

I've put on my rose colored satin cami and tap pants because I want to incite him. I use every opportunity-every trip to the refrigerator, reach for a dishcloth, or rinse of my hands, as a way to brush up against him. He's onto me but doesn't say a word until he finally loses it and pulls the skillet off the burner then corners me against the kitchen island grinding his arousal against me.

_Happy Saturday,_ I think gleefully. This is the best sleepover I've ever had.

.

We polish off a big stack of pancakes between us, along with bacon, berries, juice and big mugs of coffee. Non-stop sex definitely has an effect on our appetites.

When we finish we sit back satiated, with our feet up and our bellies full. The ocean sounds echo through the kitchen, and I feel completely content until his phone goes off. I don't recognize the ringtone, and when I look down I see the words _Vanessa calling._ What's even more aggravating is that a photo of said Vanessa illuminates his screen. Her low cut tank top barely covers a hot pink bra overflowing with breasts as she glows in all her art-whore glory.

"Nice bra," I smirk. "Be my guest." I push the phone towards him.

"Bella…" He takes on an irritating paternal voice which raises my aggravation to an impressive new level.

"What?" I snap.

"Just because they still call doesn't mean I answer."

I fold my arms over my chest.

"Who is she?"

"No one that matters. I hooked up with her a few times."

I feel a wave of nausea. It's not that I don't know there were a lot of women-I just don't want them in my face. I was enjoying my stay at Camp Masen until the idea of previous campers popped up.

"None of those girls ever meant a damn thing to me, and I think you know that."

The horrendous ring tone finally shuts off, only to be replaced by a different one.

"Great," I growl. "Strike up the band, here comes the parade."

He pulls his hands through his hair in frustration. "No, that's my voicemail prompt."

I turn and look out the window. It occurs to me that this isn't my favorite sleepover anymore. Is this what it will always be like when I stay at his house?

He suddenly picks up his phone and runs his fingers over the screen, then sets it back down in front of us. Evidently he has retrieved his voicemail as a recording starts playing back on the speaker.

_Hey Eddie it's V. You know I'm disappointed with you, handsome. This is the third time I've called, and you aren't getting back to me. You know how much fun we have, so what's the deal, baby? Someone told me that you have a girlfriend now and aren't in the game, but I know better than that….my Eddie with a girlfriend...I don't think so!_

His eyes look empty as she talks, but I notice him cringe with the girlfriend comment.

_All right, I've gotta go, but call me…last chance, baby_.

He picks up the phone and taps _Delete_ on the screen before he lowers it back to the table. I realize that it was gutsy for him to play that message for me without hearing it first. He wants me to trust him. I want to trust him too, even when I'm thrown a morning curve ball.

I look at him somberly. "So how many girls are in there? And why do you have pictures of them?"

"A lot," he admits. "I would take their picture when I got their number, otherwise I would have never remembered them. I'll delete them all right now, just watch me. It won't stop them from calling, but at least their picture and name won't come up on my screen to taunt you."

But I grab the phone out of his hands. "Before you delete them I want to see them."

"What will that accomplish other than pissing you off?"

"I guess I'm a glutton for punishment."

He goes into his contact folders, touches the screen a few more times, and then hands it back to me. "Here you go, glutton."

The first girl, Asandra, is a gorgeous light skinned African-American girl with long curly black hair and huge brown eyes. I scroll to the next. Bibi, a brunette, is licking her lips. Next Carmen, with her exotic beauty, looks like she stepped out of the wild. The forth and fifth girls are blonde, but one with blue eyes one with brown. By the eighth girl I feel extremely weary. I definitely don't want to make it to the _I_'s and have to look at the blonde goddess, Irina, again. I give up and hand the phone back to him.

"When does my picture come up? Bella should have been before Bibi and after Asandra."

"You aren't in that folder." He moves his fingers over the screen and hands the phone back to me. It's the drawing he did of me-the one Rose showed me in his studio right after he went missing. My name comes up as _MyBella._ My empty heart fills up a little.

"_You_ are my girl, Bella. Only you." He watches me carefully, but I give nothing away. He stands up and extends his hand to me. "Enough with this. Come on, let's take a walk on the beach."

.

The surf is gentle today, and we let the water run up over our feet as we walk. We are almost to the part of the beach where the rock formations cut off the walking path when he turns to me.

"Are you okay? Let's talk about it and get this cleared up."

I look at him and realize that he is calm and focused. I'm glad he gave me some time to sort through my thoughts, but now he's right, we need to finish this conversation and be done with it.

"I think the part that is bugging me is wondering why haven't you deleted them already? I understand that they were there in the first place…but why are they still there?"

"It's a logical question, Bella, and my answer may sound lame to you. Honestly, I have been so focused on the present and getting better that I hadn't even thought about it. The few times one have them called I just shut the phone off and pushed it out of my mind. But I promise you, deleting them will be the first thing I do when we get back."

I turn my face towards the sun and then back at him. His eyes look sad yet determined.

"But even as I erase every last one, it won't change the past and it won't stop them from resurfacing in other ways. We may run into them when we are out or at an opening. Hell, I'm sure we will run into James too."

I can't mask the feeling of disbelief that is moving across my face. "Well your calm logic is lovely, Edward, but can I remind you that you are the most jealous man I know? If the situation were reversed and it was a string of old boyfriends calling, how would you be handling it?"

"Fair enough, baby. I'd probably have gone off the deep end by now-once again proving that you are superior in every way." He smiles sweetly at me. "But you know I'm working on it, and I believe that as long as we stay focused on our present and look towards our future, none of it will matter."

"You're right," I agree as I step closer and pull him into a hug. I am so impressed with how he is handling this. I did notice that he took his meds last night. "Thanks."

"Thanks?" He looks at me puzzled.

"For always making me feel like number one."

He pulls me into his arms tighter. "You are much more than number one, Bella. You are the only one."

When we kiss, a large wave rushes forward, the water pushing and rising just below our knees. But despite its pull as it heads back to the ocean, we are steady.

We are almost back to the house when Edward pulls off his T-shirt. "Let's take a swim."

"But it's cold!" I'm a wimp about cold water.

"Yeah, but you get used to it and then it feels great. And I've already fired up the hot tub for when we get out."

I pull off my clothes apprehensively. Edward drags me into the surf with me howling and fighting him the entire way. When we are in waist-high he lets go of me and dives into the water. As he resurfaces he laughs and shakes his head, sending water drops flying everywhere.

"Fantastic!" He is grinning from ear to ear. "Come on baby-go under!"

I dive towards him and come up right in front of him, shivering. "You are so mean! Fuck, it's cold!"

He pulls me into his arms and kisses me passionately. Suddenly I'm not so cold anymore.

.

Later at the house, I stand with my beach towel wrapped around me tightly as Edward pulls the cover off the spa, revealing a steamy frothy Jacuzzi.

"Now we're talking!" I enthuse. _Gotta love a man with his own hot tub._

He walks over to me and silently unwraps my towel. I live for the heated look in his eyes. He takes my hand and leads me to the jacuzzi's edge. We step in together, sinking down until the water is up to our necks, shifting around to position ourselves in front of the pulsing jets. Ahhhhh

We sit quietly for a moment under the dappled light of his yard. The ocean breeze skims over us, a beautiful contrast to the bubbling hot water. Suddenly Edward speaks up. "Why don't you take off your top, Bella? It'll feel great."

I smile at him. _Yeah, it will feel great, _smooth Mr. Masen_._ Without hesitation I reach up and unhook the two clasps and pull the scraps of fabric away from me. I am already flushed from the hot water, and my nipples are darker pink and aroused. I lay back, my arms outstretched along the edge of the spa. This angle makes my breasts rise just above the water line, and I look down as the bubbles encase me. I know he is watching me. My legs naturally pull apart.

The tension lays thick and promising in the air.

"Come here." His voice is full of want.

I gaze over at him first. He has the best shoulders, strong and wide, and his chest….mmm. His chest is defined with just the right amount of hair trailing down to his washboard stomach. I glide over to him and crawl up on his lap, facing him.

His hands cup my breasts, gently pulling on my nipples. Our breathing accelerates, and he leans forward, kissing me ever so slowly.

"Who do I love?" he questions, whispering in between kisses.

"Me." My lips curl up at the sides as his lips meet mine again.

"Mmm, hmm. Who do I want?"

"Me." I reach down and grab his impressive erection through his board shorts.

We peel off our swimwear, and when we settle back down in the water I reach up to kiss him, running my tongue over his lips and into his mouth. We go on for a while pressed tightly together, kissing endlessly because it just feels so damn good. I love the feeling of his hard length against my belly. The jacuzzi's heat is nothing compared to the heat burning between my legs.

As I stroke him, feeling him pulse in my hands, I have a strong urge to have him in my mouth. He happily complies, grabbing onto the sides of the Jacuzzi and lifting himself out of the water as my tongue rolls over him. I don't take him in deep and suck him hard. Instead I tease him, looking up at him with dark eyes as I lick him languidly and rub the head over my lips as my free hand strokes him.

"You want me to be inside of you, don't you?" he whispers as he watches. I nod my head playfully. "Yes, please."

He looks at me with a serious expression. "Are you on the pill? I was tested in Ojai and I'm clean. But let's do this only if you are comfortable doing it without a condom."

I nod. "I'm on the pill." For a moment the dark thought of other women in this very jacuzzi passes over me but I try to push it away.

"I want this to be the best time you've ever had in here," I whisper, my eyes shadowed with the jealously of the phantom art whores surrounding us.

He knows I'm still hurting from this morning, and he looks at me with such tenderness. "It already is, Bella, cause I'm with you." This time when he kisses me the passion is full of love, and my fears are replaced with sheer desire.

When we finally pause to catch our breath he pulls away from me, reaches over the side of the Jacuzzi, and grabs a tube. He opens it quickly and fills his palm with the gel, then strokes it over his cock.

"What's that?"

"Waterproof lube, it doesn't matter how wet you are the Jacuzzi washes it away. This helps with that." There are times that Edward's extensive experience comes in handy.

He slides his hands around my waist. "Okay, now turn around and bend over baby."

I do as he says and he reaches for the tube again, and then I feel his gel covered fingers push inside me and roll around. Next thing I know his cock is pressed against me, and I push back so that he starts to slide inside me. We both moan loudly as he pulls me towards him so that I am sitting on his lap with my back against his chest. He is so far inside of me that it takes my breath away, and I hold still trying to adjust my body to the overwhelming fullness.

"Yes," I hiss. He reaches around and grabs my breasts roughly, then leans down and bites the top of my shoulder. I grind my hips down over him as he lifts me effortlessly in the water and then pushes me back down over and over.

"You want to feel something really great?" he taunts as he asks, already knowing the answer.

I nod excitedly. Holding me around the waist to keep me inside of him, he pushes forward in the water and then leans over me. "Rest your knees on the seat," he instructs as I now face the side of the hot tub. I grab onto the edges to steady myself. "Okay, shift around until the jet is hitting you between your legs."

My insides clench at the thought of it. I don't have to shift far until I feel the overwhelming blast of pleasure in the most sensitive spot between my legs.

"Oh my God," I pant, my heading rolling back against him as he starts to slowly move in and out of me from behind while the jet's stream pulses against me from the front. I want to cry this feels so amazing. His pace increases, and the water is now sloshing over the sides of the Jacuzzi. We are creating our own little Tsunami, and sooner than I could imagine, the big wave is getting ready to hit me.

As he thrusts he let's go of one of my hips to reach around and pinch my nipples. He can tell I'm about to crest, and he wants this one to be a home run. It's almost too much sensation tearing across my body, and I cry out for him as my climax starts. From that point on, for what seems like minutes, I don't know who I am or where he's taking me, I just fall into the sensation of everything exploding with pleasure. It's the middle of the day and I'm seeing fireworks.

Just as I start coming back to reality I realize that he is losing it, and he pulls my hips up, lifting us up out of the water, and slams into me hard over and over, grunting each time he fills me. Right before he starts to come I feel him swell inside of me, and his entire body go rigid before he begins to shake as he releases. For a moment all his weight leans over me as he shudders, and we sink back down into the water.

When we finally resurface we look at each other and start to laugh in a combination of disbelief, shock and utter satisfaction.

"You are going to be the death of me, woman. My heart almost exploded that time."

"Please, I think I blacked out. Who knows how many brain cells were killed during that orgasm." I still feel lightheaded and weak. "Speaking of which, I'm getting dizzy…I better get out of this thing."

I crawl out of the Jacuzzi and fall onto the nearby chaise lounge, pulling my towel up over me. In contrast, Edward rises out of the steaming water like a Greek God and wraps the towel around his waist before lying down on the chaise next to me and smiling.

I look over at him and think to myself…_I could get used to this._

_.  
_

Edward spends the afternoon painting in the studio while I work on my Cindy Sherman project in the library. Rose and Lauren are coming over for dinner to discuss details about the wedding, so around five I stretch out on the couch to take a short nap so I'll be rested for our evening. All this playtime with Edward is wearing me out.

I am stirred out of dreamland by the sound of voices laughing nearby. As I become more alert, I realize that Rose and Lauren are already with Edward in the kitchen. _How long have I been asleep anyway?_ I notice that there is a chenille blanket tucked around me. Edward must have checked on me at some point.

I wander out to the kitchen.

"Hey sleepyhead," Edward say sweetly as he walks towards me and kisses the top of my head. "Did you have a good rest?"

"How long did I sleep anyway?" I ask confused.

"Almost two hours. I tried to wake you once but you were gone to the world, so I just let you sleep some more. You must have really been worn out."

I raise my eyebrows and smile at him. "I'll say."

Rose comes over to give me a hug. "Hey baby, how's my girl?"

I step over and give Lauren a hug too. "I'm great, thanks."

"Edward's already got the steaks on the barbeque, and we've got the salad and corn on the cob going, so why don't you sit down and I'll get you a glass of wine."

I smile at Rose, climbing up on the bar stool at the end of the island. Edward ducks outside to check on the grill.

Rose watches Edward through the window as he turns the steaks. "Damn Bella, I have never, ever seen that man so happy. I can't tell you how much that warms my heart."

Lauren nods her head in agreement as she hands me my glass of wine.

"It's the same for me guys. I feel like we are in this magic bubble, far from the troubles of the outside world." I sigh contentedly. "He makes me so happy."

"Have you moved in yet? He says he want you to."

"No, we aren't ready for that. I'm staying this weekend, but I'm heading home tomorrow night."

"And no more jealous fits or tantrums?"

"Actually _I _had a bit of a problem with jealously this morning when one of the art whores tried to call him, but we talked and worked it out. I think we are learning how to be with each other. Falling in love is much easier than staying in love, isn't it?"

Rose and Lauren both nod their heads knowingly.

"But the rewards are so worth the growing pains. You guys seem destined to be together, so it is worth fighting for," Lauren adds.

"Fuck, yeah," throws in Rose.

.

After dinner we wander around the yard while Rose and Edward debate as to the placement of tables versus the dance floor and where to set up the bar. One of Rose's top priorities is having a great DJ, so the placement of the dance floor is critical to her. It is finally decided to set it up in the front yard under the trees.

Lauren seems more focused on visual, aesthetic issues such as lighting and shows me how she is going to have little twinkling lights and paper lanterns strung in all the trees and on the front patio facing the beach. They have decided to do the ceremony barefoot, right on the sand near the water's edge. Rose wants to be outside in the open when they declare their commitment.

Rose's dad still hasn't agreed to come to the wedding, let alone walk her down the aisle. He's not exactly supportive of Rose's _lifestyle choice_. Somehow he doesn't understand that she came out of the womb gay just like her eyes came out brown and her hair the color of melting butter.

"Edward, if Dad doesn't come, will you walk me down the aisle?"

"I'd be honored," he assures her. When he hugs her I notice a single tear trail down her cheek.

I watch them with such a full heart. It is one of those moments in life where you can remember everything: the smell of the night air edged with ocean brine, how the breeze ruffles your hair across your collar, and the way the moon's light edges two people you love with all your heart. Something about that moment makes the love and happiness I feel bubble up and overflow like an unwatched pot on the stove.

But my Hallmark moment shifts when I am startled out of my reflection by a piercing howl as Rose slaps Edward's ass hard. He chases her through the yard twice, then past Lauren and I, before they tumble into the house.

Lauren looks at me and rolls her eyes. "Those two are like big kids. I knew he wouldn't let her stay upset for long," she says as we follow them in.

From the kitchen we hear them laughing and Edward yelling out, "Who wants s'mores?"

"I do," the three of us girls chant simultaneously as we help him gather up the marshmallows, chocolate bars, graham crackers, and long metal skewers and head out to the fire pit.

Judging from the way this weekend is going I will definitely be signing up for Camp Masen on a regular basis. I've got the hots for my counselor, the enrichment activities are top notch and the food is better than home. Besides, if I don't like any of the other girls, I'll just have him delete the bitches…'cause that's how we roll.

.

* * *

_**Would you sign up for Camp Masen? Let me know. I love hearing from you...**_

There will be a teaser on the Work of Art forum Wednesday http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

Remove spaces and turn (dot) into .

Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

_**See you next Saturday!**_


	42. Chapter 42  Grand Master E

**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**

**A huge thanks to my beta TwilightZoner and pre-readers, CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen.**

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* * *

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**Work of Art / Chapter Forty-Two / Grand Master E**

_I want you to feel what I'm feelin', 'cause that's what it's all about. ~Ludacris_

_.  
_

I refill my coffee mug and head back into the library. But before returning to my laptop I stand just inside the French doors and gaze out at Edward's garden. I love the sound the waterfall makes into the koi pond and the lush beauty of the landscaping. Between my man, who has romanced me all weekend, and this glorious house facing the beach, I know I'm in paradise.

I close my eyes and remember late last night…the look in his eyes before he settles his lips between my legs-intent on pleasuring me even though I am too sore to take him in otherwise. He is passionately attentive, his tongue moving and swirling over me until my heart-pounding and mind-bending release. I, in turn, am more than happy to return the favor. There is no more heady feeling than watching him unravel before me. All of my senses are on overload as I take him in my mouth, loving him until his eyes roll back, he swells and thrusts forward, and cries out my name as he grips the sheets tightly.

We are insatiable whenever we are near each other. When we are apart I find my mind constantly drifting to highlights of all the ways he has made love to me. It is so damn distracting walking around aroused all day. I know people say that this heightened passion won't last forever, but I can't imagine ever getting bored with Edward. He is alluring in every way, and I shudder with all the overwhelming lust I feel for him.

I sigh and turn back towards the desk when I suddenly notice him leaning against the arched doorway leading to the hallway. With his bare feet, low slung jeans, white T-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, scruffy five o'clock shadow, and wild hair, he is a Bruce Weber model come to life. I want a big black and white print of him looking just like this to hang above my bed. I swallow the flames back, not wanting to provoke him if he is geared up and working.

"Hi, handsome. What's up?"

"I can't work, love…I keep thinking about you and wondering what you are doing."

"Oh…I'm distracting you? We make a pair-I'm struggling to focus on my project, and you catch me standing here thinking about you too. Maybe I should head home so we can both get our work done?"

He makes a face. "No, I don't want you to leave, Bella. I just thought maybe you could come write in the studio while I paint. We could try it and see how weird it is…see how it feels."

"Are you sure?" I ask, intrigued. The last time he and I were in the studio together he was yelling for me to get out.

He holds out his hand. "Come on. Grab your laptop."

I follow him tentatively across the yard. He puts his arm over my shoulder as we step inside. He has Mozart's _2nd Flute Concerto in D_ on the stereo and the windows open, the studio happily bright with light. The calmness is a stark contrast to my memory of Rose, Jasper, Lauren and I standing in front of his ravaged paintings. Now he has a large painting in progress that is full of hope instead of despair.

He gently takes the laptop out of my hands and places it on the desk under the North facing window. He plugs it in and snaps it open.

"There," he says, a big smile on his face. "You're good to go."

I don't say a word, just walk to the desk and settle into the chair. I figure if I get to writing and stay quiet that we may be able to make this work.

I hear the sounds of him starting to paint-the brush tapping against the water tin, the swish of the bristles moving across the canvas. I smile, realizing how happy I am to be in here with him. As I start to focus on my screen the words start flowing. My fingers tap away on my keyboard as Mozart moves me along. I am in the zone, and according to what I can hear behind me, so is Edward.

I have no idea how much time has passed, but as I type the last few digits of my outline I realize that the light has shifted in the studio, so the sun must be lower in the sky. Pushing my chair back I stand up to stretch. I turn slowly and see Edward intently working on the right side of his canvas. I am stunned at how much the painting has evolved since I sat down to work.

"Wow," I sigh. "Look at you."

When he turns toward me my breath catches. There is such an intensity in his expression. His eyes are lit from within, and his coloring is flushed with excitement. "This feels so good," he confirms. "I didn't have to think about anything. The inspiration just clicked into gear, and I just felt every brushstroke completely. Damn."

I step closer to him. "I know what you mean. There was something about being here with you that was so inspiring. I finished my whole intro, outline, and list of interview questions. I'm done!"

He tips his head and looks at me, considering what I have just said.

"I knew it," he whispers. "Come here, Bella…my muse."

Stepping forward until I am right next to him, I look up into his eyes.

He sets his brush in the water and then reaches down to take my hand, carefully guiding it towards his palette. He takes my index finger and rubs it into the puddle of violet paint on his palette, lifting it and suspending my hand just an inch beyond the canvas's surface. I hold my breath in wonder.

He studies the painting for a moment then gently takes my finger and pulls it across the area he has just been painting. My uneven path cuts through a wide stripe of blue and red, leaving a ribbon of purple in its wake.

I don't for a moment underestimate the significance of his gesture, and I close my eyes to still the memory in my brain. As he pulls my hand away, he takes his rag and wipes the residual paint off my finger, lifting my hand to his face and gently kissing the center of my palm.

"Edward," I whisper. My cowboy keeps lassoing my heart and I am undone.

He pulls me into his arms, and his lips are on me before I even realize what is happening. I hold on tight because he accelerates from zero to full speed in less than sixty seconds. His skin is hot, and he is buzzing with the force—a quiet power emanating throughout him.

As we kiss we push together tightly, and I feel his arousal thundering. Like a feral animal I reach down and grab him so I can feel him grow and harden in my grasp. He lightly bites my neck and grabs my ass with both hands so that he has leverage to grind against me.

_Oh, here we go,_ I think happily.

He leads me backwards several wide steps until my ass is pressed against the edge the desk I've been working at. As his hips rock forward, his hardness throbs against me while he leans over and carefully pushes my laptop to the far back end of the desk. The empty coffee mug soon joins it. Then there is a ceremonious sweep of his hand across the rest of the surface, sending papers, several books, and a full pencil cup careening to the ground.

_Nice and dramatic…_ just the way I want it.

"What are you going to do to me, Edward?" I whisper as he pulls my tank top over my head.

"I'm going to make love to you baby, right here in my studio," he pants as he undoes my jeans and pulls them off my hips. His thumbs loop into the sides of my thong so it is pulled down as well. In this situation I appreciate the economy of movements. I cannot wait another moment to be claimed by him.

He leans back and swiftly pulls his T-shirt off before it sails to the floor. We are a tangle of heat and hunger, flies ripping open, arousals revealed. I feel myself being lifted to the edge of the desk before he possesses me completely. I cry out, running my tongue up his neck, panting and gasping dirty words about his size and how incredible he makes me feel.

He grunts in response, his lips bruising mine with hungry kisses. I close my eyes and get lost in the feeling of him moving in and out of me, the contrast of my soft welcoming wetness to his burning aggressive hardness. I am still overwhelmed to be here in his studio, and the intensity of every feeling, every movement, is heightened. _Is he trying to insure that I never return home?_

"Bella," he gasps. "Look." His voice is smoky and his head is turned. What does he see?

I turn my head the same direction and am stunned to realize that there is a full length mirror leaning against the nearby wall. Our particular position provides a perfect side view of him fucking me. We are voyeurs of our own love making, and the idea of watching makes me feel naughty.

I swallow hard and look away for a moment, embarrassed. But Edward's vision never wavers as he slowly pulls out of me then pushes back inside. I reach up towards him, stroking his chest and willing him to look back at me. But to no avail; he is studying us, and it is arousing him to the point that his chest is heaving, making me wonder how much longer he will last.

Finally I turn my head back and join him watching. It is so erotic to see my Greek God with his towering height, and lean muscular build make love to me. I am the Aphrodite to his Adonis.

"I want to watch you climax, Bella," he moans. He is stroking me between my legs while he is fucking me. It astounds me that he can do all of this while never moving his gaze away from our reflection in the mirror.

"Look at us," he groans. "Baby, you are so beautiful."

I look back to the mirror as my back arches with pleasure, my hair cascading behind me. The expression in my eyes is heated, and my lips are swollen and flushed. I watch him lean over and run his tongue around my nipple before moving to the other.

As he turns, our eyes meet in our reflection. Watching his passionate expression as his tongue pleasures me pushes us over the edge. When I climax, he bows back with his release, so a perfect arch curves between us. If we were bronze we'd make a monumental sculpture…a work of art being forged from molten shimmering metal and passion.

.

Is it any wonder that three hours later, when it is time for me to head home, Edward holds me close and whispers in my ear.

"I love you, Bella, and I want you to stay with me. Move in with me, baby, and I'll be so good to you…you'll never want to leave."

I gaze into his eyes with a look that tells me how much I want that. But he knows it is too soon. I kiss him desperately, wanting more…wanting everything.

Our hands link tightly, and every step to my car is full of angst. I begin missing him before we've even parted.

Two different times I almost make a dangerous U-turn on PCH to head back. But I know we need to slow down, so I keep heading to my apartment even though I've left my heart back with him.

.~*~.

Early Monday, before I leave my apartment for work, I email Nick my project notes on Cindy Sherman so that he will have time to go over them before our call on Tuesday. The following morning via phone conference, Nick introduces me to one of his editors, Quill Everclear, who will be working with me hands-on for the project. Nick gets right to the point.

"You're off to a good start, Bella," he booms. "As you have shown us—Cindy's series on the Working Girl is ripe with issues to discuss."

"I like the way you address the feminist themes," concurs Quill. "You just have to be careful not to overdo it. She's not a bra burner-parade marcher. She likes the quieter approach to get her message across."

"Yes, I agree. From everything I've researched she wants the work to speak for itself. I also understand that she is quite reclusive."

"It's true," confirms Nick. "But she is happy about the book and has agreed to the interview as long as it can be worked into her schedule. Quill and I are going to add some questions to your interview outline for us to discuss during our next conference."

By the time we end our call I am beaming. I feel like I am stepping out of the gate already being respected, unlike my last project where I had to convince Jasper that it wasn't the world's biggest mistake hiring me.

Besides the beneficial boost to my confidence, I also find Cindy Sherman fascinating. Her entire career has been based on self-portraits of herself as other characters or personas. She is one of a small group of women who have achieved major museum status with their photography. I really hope I get to meet her face to face.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind as Rose and Lauren's wedding gets closer. I labor feverishly on the Sherman story, and Edward has thrown himself into his latest work. I have never seen him so energized and focused. He has titled it: _Repurposing the Intangible_, and it's the manifestation of the thrift store paintings project as he incorporates the abandoned paintings into his own work. I delight in hearing him talk about it since I feel personally involved. That day we scoured thrift stores together I can now see as one of the benchmarks in what turned out to be our future love affair.

I invite Edward over Wednesday night, originally planning to cook him dinner, but it was a hard-ass crazy day at the gallery. By the time I get off work and grocery shop I am too tired to attempt cooking. Luckily he is sweet about it and takes me to his old haunt, El Coyote, for enchiladas and margaritas then brings me home and tucks me into bed.

His patience is rewarded in the morning when he wakes up to find his cock in my warm, wet mouth and a rested girlfriend with enough friskiness to go two rounds before leaving for work.

As I head out the door, he reminds me that he wants me to come with him on Saturday to the art show downtown at the Fine Art Magnet High School where he has been working with the students. I can tell he is excited to introduce me to the kids and show me their work, so I am more than happy to come along.

Saturday he shows up at my place in black jeans and a fitted black T-shirt. And of course he still hasn't shaved so he really has that rough-edged look going. _Damn._

"What?" he asks when I give him a saucy look.

"You are so incredibly distracting. Who is going to look at the art with you looking like that."

"Oh please," he moans. "And what about you, Ms. Swan? As much as I love the fit of your jeans, do you really need to advertise that you have such a great ass? You are going to provoke all those young men with their raging hormones." He steps up behind me, pulling me against him before working his hands up to my breasts. I am instantly aroused.

"I'm going to have to beat them off with a big stick." He growls.

"_You _are going to have to beat me off with a big stick if you don't stop rubbing up against me. In another minute I'm pulling off my tight-ass jeans and we are missing the show."

"Okay, okay." He puts his hands in the air to surrender. "Let's go, baby."

When we walk into the large school room that has been converted into a makeshift gallery, all eyes turn towards us. A young man with tattoos running up his neck and a baseball cap angled to the side saunters over to us first. He can't be over seventeen, but he has the attitude of someone twice his age.

"Grand Master E!" He does that fist knocking thing with Edward then looks me over.

_Master E?_ I think to myself, amused. I'll make sure and use that against him later.

"Is this your woman?"

"Yes, Tulio, this is _my woman_, Bella. Bella, this is Tulio."

"Hey." I nod my head at him figuring this is as formal as we will get.

"Oh, she's fine, Master E, very fine. You better put a ring on it."

Edward smirks. "Thanks, Tulio, I'll keep that in mind. Now, why don't you show us your work. I'm sure Bella will be fascinated."

"Put a ring on it," I chant quietly as we follow Tulio. "Is that like being branded?"

"In a way," Edward agrees. "Marking what's yours is a theme I've seen a lot around here.

"How romantic," I say with not a small amount of sarcasm in my voice.

"Oh baby, believe me, when I ask to put a ring on you it will be very romantic."

I blush furiously as I try to focus on the paintings Tulio has pointed out. He is a modern day Diego Rivera, with colorful paintings of the people from his neighborhoods, working, talking, living their lives.

"He's good," I comment to Edward.

"I know." He nods with a smile on his face. "If he keeps this up I'm sure I can get him a scholarship to a really good art school. Plus he has the confidence and drive, and that's half the battle."

I notice some of the kids are nervously gathered around a table with homemade cookies and half empty liter bottles of Coke and Sprite. No wine and cheese platters at this event, but perhaps one day some of them will experience being part of a prestigious opening.

I take a broader look at the room with dirty walls and battered tables, and my heart swells when I realize the pride with which all of the art is hung. I have been to countless museums, gallery shows and art events, and I've never felt the amount of effort and creative energy that is captured in the work covering these four walls. There are no fancy frames and not all the work is great, but there is hope in every line and brushstroke. I also realize that Edward's and my reactions to what we observe are carefully anticipated by everyone.

Next, Edward steps towards a shy African American kid who is standing with a woman I assume to be his mother.

"Are you Cedric's mom?" Edward asks politely after saying hello to the boy. "I'm the guest teacher, Edward Masen."

"You are the famous painter Cedric keeps talking about," she says with cautious eyes. "You've made a big impression on him."

"And he's made a big impression on me," Edward shoots back. "He's very talented, Mrs. Johnston."

"Yeah, but will he be able to get a real job with this drawing stuff?"

"I can't promise that," Edward says in a serious tone. "But he has a real gift, and I think he should give it a shot."

I see Cedric light up like the Times Square ball at Midnight on New Year's Eve.

God, I want to bet on this kid with his fantastical paintings of flying elephants and baroque tree houses with mythical animals perched in the trees. His imagination appears to know no bounds and his execution is flawless.

"Where do you get your ideas, Cedric? What inspires you? Your work is so imaginative."

"Thank you," he says quietly, looking down. "I've always seen all of this in my head and done a million sketches for myself. But it wasn't until Edward showed me this artist, Daniel Merriman's work, that I felt it was okay to do this stuff and still be taken seriously."

I squeeze Edward's hand as Cedric slowly looks up at him. I can see the admiration in the boy's eyes.

We are next approached by a provocative girl who from that point on I will refer to as Lolita. She ignores me and flirts shamelessly with Edward. Luckily he has had such extensive experience with the needy art whores that he is able to keep her at arm's length without too much of a fuss. And as much as I hate to admit it, her documentary photographs of Quinceañeras: the rite of passage pageantry for Latino American girls, show both sensuality and wonder. Lolita has managed to be both photographer and protagonist in her work,

Edward takes the time to introduce me to every student and show me their work. A tall, plain, red-headed girl taps him on the arm and points to her large canvas. He smiles as he approaches it and runs his hand over the right side of the painting. "Wow, girl. Did you do this after we talked?" She nods her head, nervously waiting for his reaction. "I love it-it's so much stronger now, don't you think?" Pure joy moves across her face.

He takes my arm and pulls me closer. "Bella, this is Sadie, my abstract girl. What do you think?" I take a moment and study her painting so my answer doesn't come off as flippant. Her use of color and layering is reminiscent of Edward. She is obviously being influenced by his work, but there is real talent there. With time she will hopefully find her own voice. "I like it very much, Sadie. Creating compelling abstract art is more difficult than people realize. You've got real talent." She smiles at me, looking so hopeful.

Our final stop is with Raphael, the teacher who brought Edward into this program which is known for having the most talented young artists from all over L.A. He shakes my hand warmly and speaks of what Edward has given to the kids. The time he has spent here has had a profound effect on them.

As I've watched him today, I've realized that with only a handful of words, Edward has the power to give hope to kids who have never known it. I am humbled to see his magic at work, and I fall fiercely in love with him all over again.

.

In the parking lot he opens the car door locks with his remote. But before he swings mine open for me, he presses me against the side of the car and kisses me passionately.

"Wow, what was that for?" I ask, stunned.

"Do you realize that I would never have met those kids if it weren't for you? It's been such an amazing experience working with them. Their enthusiasm is so inspiring. I'd forgotten what it was to be so excited about your own art."

I reach up to stroke his cheek adoringly as he looks into my eyes.

"You know, Bella, I would have never learned to crawl if I hadn't lost you. And through all that you inspired me to pick myself up off the floor and walk again."

I reach up and kiss him softly. "I'm so proud of you."

"How did I get so damn lucky? You know, I may never have known real love if I hadn't found you.'

"Me too." I sigh as I curl into him. But luck doesn't begin to explain the devotion that flows between us. By starting all over from scratch, we've laid a solid foundation. Everything we build from here on has the ability to be steadfast and strong.

He rubs my back gently.

"You've brought me to life, Bella. No matter what life brings-for better or for worse, I am finally really living thanks to you."

.

* * *

_**What did you think of Artward the teacher? Let me know because every review is a work of art to me….**_

_**Thank you to whomever nominated Work of Art for "Best Must Read Story" and "Best New Author" in the Avant Garde Awards which is for new authors and lesser known stories. I really appreciate it.**_

There will be a teaser on the Work of Art forum Wednesday http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

Remove spaces and turn (dot) into .

Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

_**See you next Saturday!**_


	43. Chapter 43  I Do!

_**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**_

_**A huge thanks to my beta TwilightZoner and pre-readers, CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen.**_

**I'm thrilled and honored that Work of Art was nominated for several awards, both by contests that celebrate the lesser known stories and authors:** Rare Gem Awards: http:/ bit (dot) ly/b8OCZK nominated for best story, author and lemon (to link remove spaces and add dots)

Avante Garde Awards: http:/twilightfb-awards (dot) blogspot (dot) com nominated for Must Read Story and Best Author. (to link remove spaces and add dots)

**This is the first time WofA isn't up against a blockbuster story so each vote is especially meaningful. I encourage you to support your favorite lesser known stories and authors…it means a lot to all of us.**

**

* * *

**

**Work of Art / Chapter Forty-Three / I Do! **

_Now join hands, and with your hands your hearts._  
_~William Shakespeare_

_.  
_

Several weeks later my cell phone rings at work.

"I'm going to kill him," he growls into the phone.

"Edward?"

"If somebody doesn't get that yappy fucker away from me I'm going to kill him."

"Are you talking about Rudolpho the wedding coordinator?"

"He keeps interrupting me, Bella. I'm trying to work, and he's coming into my studio asking me about electrical outlets, recycling bins, and all kinds of other bullshit I cannot be bothered with."

I laugh to myself. _Homeboy did not go into the studio and interrupt Edward._ His days in Malibu are numbered.

"Why in the fuck did Rose let him come over here on his own? Is this her idea of a joke?" He asks angrily.

_He's not going to let this go easily_, I smirk. "I doubt it, Edward. Everyone is wound up trying to get things ready in time. She was really something for our bachelorette outing. She almost got into a fistfight with the bitchy receptionist at the day spa."

"See, I told you you should have gone to that lesbian Chippendales place instead. She could have been drinking and letting off some steam, not getting her back rubbed by some hulking middle aged Swedish woman that looks like a dude."

"What makes you think we got our massages done by women?"

"Didn't you?" I can almost hear his teeth grinding through the phone.

"No, Bruno worked on me."

"Bruno? Are you telling me that a guy named Bruno rubbed his hot oily hands all over my woman? I am going to fucking kill the motherfucker."

Well, at least I've gotten him to forget about Rudolpho.

"Calm down, Mr. Manly Man…Bruno was as gay as they come."

I hear a sigh of relief. "Well, it's a damn good thing he's gay. But I still don't like it. You don't realize the effect you have on men, Bella. Just seeing you lying naked on the table…hell, that could get him to change his ways."

"Gee Edward, flattery will get you everywhere. But I really don't think so. Bruno was all about the boys. Besides baby, you know you are my everything. I don't even notice other guys…why would I when I have the sexiest, smartest, most charming, most wonderful boyfriend ever?"

"You sweet talker you," he sighs. "When are you coming over? I need my Bella fix. I'm thinking you, me, and a bottle of wine in the hot tub."

"Well, I have another two hours here at the gallery but that sounds like heaven on earth. I Let me see what I can do-I'll call you right back."

I dial Lauren because I don't want to get Rose worked up.

"Lauren, you have to call Rudolpho and get him off Edward's back before he loses it. We need to do an intervention."

"Uh oh, that bad, huh?"

"Well, Edward is trying to work and Mr. Perky keeps interrupting him. The guy is going to have more than just wedding issues if he doesn't lay off."

Lauren snickers. "I warned Rose about that, but she's so damn busy. I swear, we should have just gone to Vegas."

"Oh, and miss all this drama…what fun would that have been?"

"Okay, girlfriend, I will call Rudy and get him to leave your man alone. We can't have Edward go ballistic the day before the wedding. He's been so great about everything so far."

"He's really trying," I admit. "He doesn't handle a lot of chaos in his home and schedule well, but he really wants to do this for you guys."

Listen to me…I sound like an old married woman talking about her hubby—not my boyfriend who I've only been with for a month.

..~*~..

Carlisle tickles me because he seems as excited about the wedding as I am. That man is quite the romantic. So before I can even ask to leave early he suggests that I do since tomorrow is such a "big day."

As I head to my car my phone rings again.

Edward sounds much calmer this time. Lauren must work fast.

"The wedding Queen just left in a tizzy. I'm not sure what you did but it worked brilliantly. See Bella, you always know how to take care of me."

"And you know how to take care of me."

"Well, along those lines, I was thinking about dinner tonight. Let's make it easy. How does take-out from Oceanic sound? We can sit outside and dine under the stars."

"I like the sound of that. I just have to swing by home and get my dress for the wedding and stuff for this weekend and then I'll be on my way."

When I step into his garden gate I stop in my tracks, overwhelmed with the vision before me. The yard is lit up with a million tiny white lights strung throughout the trees. There are also lit paper lanterns in a variety of colors dangling from the branches and swaying in the warm breeze. Rudy, Rudolpho or whatever his name is may be irritating, but he sure knows his shit.

Edward has set up a little table under the canopy of lights. Not only is there a tablecloth and candles in glass votives but the wine is open and the glasses waiting to be filled.

I find him in the kitchen pulling out plates for our dinner. When he sees me his face lights up and my heart soars.

"You're home," he says happily.

His meaning behind those two words does not escape me as I wrap my arms tightly around him.

Later the little lights are fireflies shining above us. Feet intertwined, fingers woven together, lips glazed with wine whispering sacred words…he seduces me so slowly that I don't even notice my resistance being peeled away like the skin from a plump grape.

Half-eaten artichokes and crab legs are abandoned as we tumble from our chairs. We are hungry for more than dinner. He takes me on the grass, pressing me into the earth with our half-removed clothes dangling from us like waving flags. As he moves over, in, and through me the pleasure rushes through my veins. I tip my head up and squint just before I climax, and all the tiny lights flare like star bursts coursing through our sky.

Pure happiness is no longer a concept but a truth as I open up wider for him each time. Later, as I brush the bits of grass from my hair, I laugh realizing that we never even made it to the hot tub.

.

The next day is a whirling kaleidoscope of images and moments. I keep Edward occupied upstairs while the set-up activity downstairs unfurls. So when we finally make our way down the stairs the mayhem is starting to come under control and things are taking shape. The flurry of activity is something to behold. The dance floor is carried in by large men who fit the pieces together with precision in a matter of minutes. Wood circles roll along, huge polka dots until their legs are released and they become tables. Table cloths are shaken loose, silverware lined up with military precision. Chair after chair is snapped opened and positioned. Heat lamps are marched in, an army of tin soldiers with wide brimmed hats. Rudy wisely avoids Edward as he directs the florist, caterer, and other vendors. Small wedding indeed…this is like a mini-Broadway production. By the time they are done Edward's house is transformed into a wedding wonderland.

I smile when I see the cake with two miniature women arm in arm on top. One has spiky blond hair, the other is a long haired brunette. The resemblance to my two friends is uncanny. Leave it to Rose to commission a custom made lesbian wedding cake topper.

The bride and bride show up only moments later, and in their excitement they both are both glowing. I take them up to the guest room so they can hang up their clothes and make themselves at home. Lauren remembers something she needs to tell Rudy so she heads downstairs as Rose lays her stuff out on the bed.

"Well, girlfriend…when you were growing up I bet you never thought you'd end up getting married," I say jokingly.

Rose chuckles. "You are right about that. I grew up making fun of weddings and marriage. But if I'd known that my Lauren was out there waiting to find me I would have kept my damn mouth shut."

"Are you nervous?" I ask tenderly.

"No, I'm just happy. I guess I'm more traditional than I thought 'cause I'm really getting off on the idea of us making this kind of commitment in front of everyone we love."

"Yeah, I never pegged you as the traditional type."

"Well, the more we've talked and planned about having kids, the more that stuff seems to mean to me. I'll probably be the most old-fashioned mother around."

She walks over to me and pulls me into a hug. "Baby, thanks for being my best girl."

"Ah Rose, it's been great. And when you guys have your baby, I'll be the best Auntie too."

"I'm counting on it," she says happily. "Now let's get this show on the road!"

As maid of honor I am the first to head down the aisle in the wedding march. It's funny the small things you notice in a big moment, like the piles of abandoned shoes next to the steps leading down to the beach and the big smile on the face of the classical guitarist playing as I slowly take measured steps towards the circle. I notice that Lauren's mother already has tears in her eyes. The weather has cooperated beautifully with a soft breeze and warm sun-even the ocean is quiet as if Rudy had made special arrangements with the big Kahuna for everything to be just so.

As I enter the flower edged circle I look at the faces I know smiling warmly at me: Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, and Ted. Jacob, Sam, Xio, Michelle, and Darlene. Jasper, Alice, and all the other friends and family of my girls. Everyone looks happy and ready to help celebrate this special union.

After I have taken my place the guitarist starts playing his own version of the wedding march. Lauren, on the arm of her older brother, comes down the sandy aisle first. She is stunning in an ivory raw silk dress. It is a simple fitted cut that flairs at the bottom, but over the dress she is wearing an elegant waist coat of the sheerest organza. It has a million tiny pearl buttons trailing down the front and long flowing sleeves that flutter in the breeze. Her hair is pinned up with a single white orchid. Once inside the circle, Lauren turns and waits with the rest of us for Rose to appear.

When Rose steps into view my heart fills. She is radiant with joy, and her arm is linked with Edward's as they move towards us. Her white tailored suit shimmers in the afternoon sun.

Edward has cleaned up quite nicely in his white linen shirt and navy slacks. As I watch him I smile, realizing that his expression is a combination of pride and love. When our eyes meet I soak up the happiness that spills forth. This is a big deal for him.

They enter the circle, and Rose joins Lauren in front of the officiate. Edward steps over next to me. Before things start the female minister, who is an old family friend of Lauren's, steps forward and asks the guests on the edge of the opening of the circle to step over and close the gap. The symbology of Rose and Lauren enclosed in a circle of love by the people most significant in their life is now complete.

As promised, the ceremony is short and sweet. My favorite part is when they share their vows. Rose starts, speaking first as she slides her commitment ring onto Lauren.

"Lauren, You have put up with me, love

And I know I'm not easy…"

A soft chuckle rolls across the guests.

"I am fierce- and sometimes care too much

Yet you find the grace and forgiveness

To love me just the way I am.

With this ring, I give you my promise  
that from this day forward  
you shall not walk alone.

May my heart be your shelter  
and my arms be your home. "

I sigh noticing the soft look in Rose's eyes as she gazes at her partner. It is moving to share this intimate moment with them. A second later Edward takes my hand in his. I look up at him, and he smiles at me with his eyes and his heart

Our eyes shift back to the couple as Lauren starts.

"Rose, we come together to share our strengths, our weakness,  
our hopes, and our dreams.

We come together to share our love, our lives,  
and our future.

I embrace all that is yours with all that I am.

With this ring, I give you my heart.

I have no greater gift to give.

I promise I shall do my best. I shall always try.

We are always two, but we will always be one.

I love and respect all that you are.

I feel so honored to call you my life.

May we feel this joy forever.

The ceremony is sealed with a sweet kiss before they turn towards their friend's' open arms. The sun hangs low in the sky casting a golden glow over the scene, and the photographer scurries about trying to capture as much as she can while the light is optimal.

The group tumbles up to the house chatting happily and leaving a trail of sand behind. The bar is in full swing, and hors d'oeuvres are being served. I see Alice and Jasper near the koi pond, and I join them.

"How great is this?" Alice asks enthusiastically.

Jasper smiles and pulls her closer.

"I know," I agree. "There is nothing better than a wedding when you know the couple is meant to be together."

"Two soul mates," Alice agrees.

"Well, I've known Rose a long time, and I've never seen her so happy," Jasper adds. "Ladies, I'm ready for a drink- what can I get you?"

As Jasper heads to the bar I give Alice a smirk.

"What?" she asks.

"You've got that look girl…like you are planning your wedding in your head as we stand here. Nothing like a wedding to get the single people thinking the unthinkable, huh?"

"Oh girlfriend, I've had my wedding planned for years…all the way down to the cake design and paper stock for the invitations. I just was always missing that one little component."

"You mean the groom?" I tease.

"Uh huh," she laughs. "And now that I've got him the fantasy is in full swing. It's in living Technicolor in my head."

"Well, whatever you do, don't ask me to throw you three showers…okay?"

"Darn!" She laughs with a pretend pout. We manage to change the subject right before Jasper rejoins us with a glass of wine for each of us.

The dancing starts immediately after dinner, and my traditional Rose has Edward start the first dance with her, then hand her off mid-song to Lauren who is dancing with her brother. I know she is still heartbroken that her father refused to come to the wedding but Edward makes a fine stand-in.

As soon as he is free Edward comes looking for me. He finds me by the bar comparing the challenges of dating a temperamental artist with Xio, Sam's girl. He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. He pulls me close and starts to sway to the music with me in his arms.

"Have I told you yet that you are the sexiest maid of honor I've ever seen?"

I smile at him. "Thanks, Rose and Lauren told me they wanted me to look hot…no tacky bridesmaid dresses at their wedding." I wave my arms up and down my dress. "They picked this out." I smooth my hands over the fitted navy dress that hugs my ass just so and has a low scoop neck that shows off my cleavage.

"Well, they nailed it. You look hot as hell."

"And you as well, my California beach boy. I could barely notice the girls during the ceremony because you looked so damn sexy."

He grins and twirls me around once before kissing me.

"So what kind of wedding do you want Bella?"

"You mean theoretically, _if _I got married, what type of wedding would I want?"

"Okay…yes," he huffs. "Theo-ret-ically, _if_ you got married, what kind of wedding would you want?"

"I don't know, I've never thought about it."

"Never? I thought every woman thought about it."

"Not this woman."

"Hmmm," he moans as he kisses me again. "Maybe you should start to think about it."

.

The DJ ends up being everything Rose had proclaimed. At one point I glance over my shoulder, and to my surprise and delight Carlisle and Esme are seriously getting down. They are laughing as he pulls up behind her seductively and she grinds against him.

Of course Edward makes a big point of only dancing with me so I won't have a chance to be jealous. I never tire of watching him move, and I actually think I dance better with him than I've ever danced before. I don't know when I've had this much fun, but damn, the man is wearing me out.

I decide to slip out the front gate for a minute to catch my breath and a moment of peace, but as it turns out no peace will be found. There appears to be some type of situation, and Rudy is agitated and chattering into his walky-talky.

"What do you mean he got in? Stop him!" Rudy spews.

"Stop who?" I question, concerned.

"Bella, right?" He asks, as he recognizes that I am Edward's girlfriend. He is a pro and knows enough to be careful who he talks to. "That was the valet. They said this drunk guy showed up claiming he was here for the wedding."

"He showed up drunk?" I ask, annoyed.

"Oh, it gets better, doll. He claims he is Lauren's husband and he is here to take her home."

"Fuck!"

"You got that right. They told him he couldn't come in but he put up a fight. Anyway, they are afraid that he slipped in the fence when some cars were pulling out."

As I try to wrap my head around the idea that Lauren was married to a guy, I start to remember hearing something about her being married once. But that had been years ago, and _now_ he wants to crash the wedding? Well, at least he missed the ceremony. That would be too much if he had done that movie cliché but with a gay twist. _She can't marry that woman she belongs to me!_ I snap back to reality and the problem at hand.

We've got to stop him. I can't let their big day be ruined.

"Let me find Edward," I call out as I run back into the garden.

Luckily, Edward is close by since he's been looking for me. I quickly explain him the situation.

"I've heard all about that fucker, Bella. He's a psycho."

"Well, for God's sake, please be careful then."

He acts quickly, grabbing Jasper and Emmett as back-up.

But we aren't fast enough because just then the psycho- ex bursts through the garden gate shouting Lauren's name. It takes mere seconds for Edward and the boys to charge forward and haul him back out the gate. They are so stealthy that most of the guests don't even notice. Rose does though, and she storms across the yard then out the gate, with me right on her heels.

Fuck, what is my girl going to do?

But Edward is several steps ahead of her. Evidently, he has already hit the guy as _X_'s mouth is bleeding and Edward is rubbing his fist. Jasper and Emmett each have him by an arm and are trying to drag him up the driveway.

"What are you doing here, you motherfucker?" Rose yells.

"Where is my wife you damn dyke!" he throws back. Some of the blood from his mouth sputters down his white shirt.

"_Your_ wife?" She scoffs. "She's my wife now, asshole. She's been done with your sorry ass for years. And if you don't get out of here now I'm going to cut your balls off."

"Damn right," affirms Edward. He is really pissed off.

But the foolish man isn't going down without a fight.

"You think because you have money you can take my girl. You can buy her shit and talk pretty to her, but you can never take care of her like I can." He then grabs his crotch and pulls on it roughly.

Rose surprises me then by calmly smiling the most wicked of smiles.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, loser. Lauren says you were weren't even a good fuck. So remember_ I'm_ the one that will be in her bed tonight. Why do you think she just married me? I give it to her so good that she always begs for more."

She then takes several long strides forward and knees him hard in the groin, spins around and heads back inside.

Edward and I both look at each other, our mouths hanging open as the psycho crumbles. I think the ex is done here. Edward joins Emmett and Jasper as they drag the fucker back up the driveway. I decide to head inside to find Rose.

She's not in the garden, nor the back patio, and she's not in party area inside the house. But their friend Michelle seems to know who I'm searching for and she points upstairs.

I head up the stairs quickly nervous for what I will find. The guest room door is open, and I push the door open further and step inside. My first reaction is confusion by the scene in front of me. Rose has Lauren against the wall. Is she comforting her? Is Lauren really upset? But seconds later I realize that no one is upset here. They are in the middle of a passionate kiss, and Rose is holding Lauren's breast as she presses into her. Lauren is moaning as she pulls Rose closer.

"Well now," I say quietly as I start to back out of the room. But Lauren opens her eyes and breaks away from Rose.

"Bella," she says, sounding a bit embarrassed.

Rose turns to see me, and she doesn't look embarrassed at all.

"I'm so sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Thanks, baby, you are the best." Rose smiles warmly at me. "But we are more than okay." She lowers her hand down to Lauren's waist. She and Lauren look at each other adoringly.

"Yeah," I stammer. "I can see that. Ah, I'll see you downstairs then." I scurry out of the room and head down the stairs. After my embarrassment dies down my happiness sets in, realizing that Mr. _X_ showing up didn't ruin a damn thing.

I wander around looking for Edward next and breath a sigh of relief when he and the boys return to the garden. When he sees me, he comes right over.

"Is Rose okay?"

"Hell yes. I was worried and I went looking for her only to walk in on her and Lauren making out."

He laughs. "That's my Rose. She never misses an opportunity to express herself."

"_Carpe diem_, you could say."

"That's right, baby…and she sure has the right idea. I'm really ready to _seize your day_ and every night too."

"Well, what are you waiting for," I chant as I trail kisses along his jaw.

.

The last guests don't leave until just before three a.m., and despite our exhaustion, Rose, Lauren, Edward, and I are still amped up. We open a stray bottle of champagne and sit by the fire pit to toast a perfect night and relive high points of the wedding. All in all we decide that it was stellar…an event that no one who attended will ever forget.

Finally Rose and Lauren head up to the guest room, and I hang with Edward while he shuts off the lights and the heat lamps. By the time we head up to his bedroom I am so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I fumble with the zipper on my dress, and he steps in and helps me by gently easing the zipper down. And despite my exhaustion, the way he pushes my dress of my shoulders so that it cascades to the floor makes my heart skip a beat. He unhooks my bra and pushes it off as well, and I am amazed to feel my desire spark like the burner fluttering on a stovetop. With each moment I get hotter until I am ready to burn.

He steps up behind me, pushing his erection against me as he cups my breasts and pinches my nipples softly.

_Whatever you want is yours baby,_ I think as I run my tongue over my lips.

_I want to make love to you slowly_, he says without words, just his moving hands, his silent desire.

He pushes me back on the bed and keeps it simple, like a shot of vodka straight up. I spread my legs and watch him crawl over me before he sinks deeply inside of me.

"Oh, baby," he groans.

I arch my hips up to meet him over and over.

It's one of those times I don't care if I climax, I am too tired for it to matter. What I do know however is that I want him to see stars so I give in small and large ways until he is howling at the moon.

When I finally rest my head on his chest to surrender to sleep I smile in contentment. I am holding my future-the man I want to spend the rest of my life with-and one day we will seal the deal too. I don't care if we do it with Elvis in Vegas or Uncle Bob down on the farm…we will get there, and it will be worth every damn hurdle we had to plummet over to get us to our promised land.

.

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**_Thanks for coming to the wedding! Let me know if you had a good time…_**

There will be a teaser on the Work of Art forum Wednesday http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

Remove spaces and turn (dot) into .

Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

_**See you next Saturday!**_


	44. Chapter 44  This is the Hunger

_**Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.**_

_**A huge thanks to my beta TwilightZoner who got out of a sick bed to beta this chapter and my terrific pre-readers, CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen.**_

**Voting is still open for two contests that celebrate the lesser known stories and authors:** Rare Gem Awards: http:/ bit (dot) ly/b8OCZK Work of Art is nominated for best story, author and lemon (to link remove spaces and add dots)

Avante Garde Awards: http:/twilightfb-awards (dot) blogspot (dot) com nominated for Must Read Story and Best Author. (to link remove spaces and add dots) **Thanks for voting!**

* * *

.

**Work of Art / Chapter Forty-four / This is the Hunger**

_They sicken of the calm who know the storm. ~__Dorothy Parker_

.

"How do you feel about interviews?"

Mysterious Edward is on the phone. Is this a guessing game? "Like in looking for a job? I don't have much experience with that."

"No, what I mean is how would you feel about interviewing me?"

I laugh at the idea of it. "That would be fun. Why do you ask?"

"The marketing guy from Taschen called. They want to film a segment of you interviewing me in my studio to promote the book."

"In your studio? And you agreed to that?" I don't try to mask the disbelief in my voice.

"Yeah, I'm nervous about it, but it will be good for the book."

"Well, if you are willing to do that there's no way I'll turn you down."

"Good because they want to do it this week. I told them about your day job, so they agreed to do it this Saturday."

"This Saturday! What do I need to do to get ready? Am I writing the questions? What do I wear? Fuck!"

"Slow down, sweet thing! They will call you in the morning to go over all that."

"I'm nervous, Edward."

"Oh don't be, it's you and me being you and me. It doesn't get better than that."

.

On Saturday I head to Malibu wearing my hippest jeans and a cerulean blue fitted tee, since I was instructed that this color looks optimal on video. They want the whole thing to have a very casual cool vibe. When I arrive at the house there is a bustle of activity, and I am swept into the breakfast room where the make-up artist is set up. I am concerned when she starts working me over but then it is explained that it takes this much effort to make people look natural on camera since the format washes out all of your natural coloring. Who knew?

The director comes in near the end to prep me. First he clarifies that the serious discussion and viewing of Edward's paintings will be done separately with a voice over talking about his work. So for this segment they are using a hand-held camera and they want it to be a fun "meet the artist" approach. Although they have given me a list of unconventional questions, they also encourage me to just go wherever the moment takes me. _If he only knew,_ I smirk. The moment taking me could involve Edward taking me on top of his desk.

Edward and I purposely avoid each other before the shoot, not wanting to give our relationship away. I smile at him when he comes in to get his healthy shine powdered on for the camera but otherwise I ignore him.

When I am finally called to the studio it is lit up with bright lights on telescoping stands. There are more paintings than usual stacked around the two facing walls. Everything looks unnatural like this-all in the attempt to look natural on camera.

They hook us up with little microphones and hide the wires in our clothes then position Edward and me on stools. Next come lighting and sound checks, and then the director motions to the camera man and asks me to start by revealing a secret about Edward. The first couple of attempts are awkward and so Edward leans over and whispers in my ear.

"Why don't you tease that damn camera like you tease me, Bella?"

Newly inspired, I nod to the camera man. They start rolling again.

"Hi, I'm Bella Swan, the author of _Unspoken Truths,_ here to interview my favorite subject, brilliant artist Edward Masen. But first I have to tell you a secret. I jump off the stool and walk closer to the camera with my finger poised in front of my pursed lips. "Shhhh, we are in the artist's studio and you know what? He hates having anyone in his studio."

"Damn right," I hear Edward agree behind me.

"So today should be fun 'cause I think I'll get him good and riled up. I mean we are all over his studio." I wave my arms towards the paintings and his easel.

"Cut!" the director bellows. I immediately steel myself for being chastised for such a stupid intro, but before I can wallow too far he yells out, "perfect! We want this fun, Bella, just like that…we want something that will appeal to younger art enthusiasts since that's what they are going for with the book."

And so it goes.

I gently tease and taunt Edward, and he gives it right back to me, even pushing me off my stool at one point. We both end up howling with laughter.

.

"What was the best thing Santa ever brought you?"

"A pet hamster I named Van Gogh. He had a deformed ear, but he was damn smart. I even taught him to paint. He would scamper over my paint box and then put his little footprints all over my drawing pad. My mom even let me have an art show for him during one of her dinner parties."

I've never heard this story and I am charmed.

"So you were his manager, shaping his career and what not?"

"Yeah, until the cleaning lady stepped on him. Just like Van Gogh, his life was short but remarkable."

.

"So if you could go back in time and live any artist's life, who would you choose?"

"Back how far? Like Andy Warhol's time?"

"Anytime, you could be Michelangelo during the renaissance in Italy."

"Hell no, how long did it take him to paint that damn ceiling on his back? I wouldn't be fly with that."

"Fussy artist." I turn towards the camera and shake my head. "He turns down being one of the great art geniuses from history because his arms may get tired."

"I know," he jumps in. "Theodore Geisel."

"You mean Dr. Seuss? _Cat in the Hat_? _Sam I Am_? Are you toying with me, Masen?"

"Hell no, Seuss was a genius! _Oh the Places You'll Go_ is one of the best books ever, and the art is super trippy."

"True," I agree, "but still that is an unexpected choice. I was thinking you'd pick Francis Bacon or someone upbeat like that."

"Well, the thing with Suess is that it kind of messed me up as a kid, but in a good way. Besides, think about it…do you know a kid in America who wasn't influenced by his work? Get 'em young, I say."

"So I see you pay attention to the demographics of your fan base."

"Doesn't every artist? If they don't they should," he teases.

.

At the very end I toy with him in a naughty way.

"So lets talk about the lifestyle of a contemporary artist living in L.A. I hear you have quite a way with the ladies, Mr. Masen."

"So they say. Hey, are you free tonight because this artist would like to show you a good time."

"You want me to come up and see your etchings? Yeah, yeah, yeah I've heard that before."

He makes an exaggerated, sexy face at me.

"So that's your warning ladies." I roll my eyes, cross my arms and walk towards the camera again. "The man is insatiable. But lucky for all of us the same can be said for his appetite to create thought provoking art. Check out _Unspoken Truths_ to learn more about Edward Masen and his work."

I turn back towards him.

"Thanks, Edward, for letting us into your very private studio."

"You're welcome." He smiles broadly as he picks up his paint brushes. "Now please get these guys to leave so I can get my fortress of solitude back."

"Fortress of solitude? What a grand name!"

"Hmmm…why don't you stay behind and then we can rename it."

"I just might." I turn and wink at the camera.

"Cut!"

.

"Was that all right?" I ask the director.

He turns and looks at Edward and they both roll their eyes.

"Was that really your first time on camera?" the director asks with a skeptical look.

"Yes, why?"

"Well, I can promise you it won't be your last."

.

That evening Edward takes me out to celebrate at Bonne Foi. We are still giddy from the success of the shoot, so over French food and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc we talk about our hopes and dreams not just for his book and my career, but for the other adventures we would like to share. Remembering my conversation with Aunt Ann I ask him about Paris, and he lights up. By the end of his Parisian stories he promises me that one day soon he will take me with him to the City of Light.

Before we get into his car to head home he sweeps me into his arms. His lips are warm and soft, but there is a strong surge of passion moving through him. When we part I sway as I catch my breath. _Oh my._

"Can I tell you something?" he whispers in my ear.

I nod smiling.

"I'm so crazy about you, baby."

"I'm getting that idea," I tease. I nuzzle up to him, running my hand over his chest. "You show me in so many ways…not just with your words, sometimes you sweep me off my feet just with that look of yours." I demonstrate his sexy look before kissing him again.

We get into the car with him grinning while he starts up the engine. As we wind our way back to his house, I shift in my seat so I'm facing him. Overwhelmed with love, I gently run my fingers through his hair, and then trail them down his arm. He is so sensitive to my touch, as if he can hear my heart silently speaking to him. He sighs contentedly.

"You were amazing today, Edward…with all those people in your studio and chaos of the shoot, and yet you managed to be as charming as ever."

"Just charming?"

"What were you going for?"

"Hot…I wanted to be hot," he says playfully as he pulls up to his security gate off the highway.

"Oh, well that is a given, handsome. You can't avoid being hot even when you try. You are hot when you're happy, sad, aggravated, even angry. This is just something I have to deal with twenty-four-seven…all the unbelievable hotness." I run my hand along his pants and stroke his muscular thigh suggestively.

"That hot?" he asks, laughing softly.

My hand slides between his legs and slowly teases upwards. "You know, it's not fair sometimes that I have to deal with getting scorched from all that heat. It's damn distracting. The want is overwhelming…we are probably lucky that I haven't combusted by now."

"Wow, don't combust before I get you upstairs," he urges as he pulls me out of the car. "I've got special plans for you tonight, and these plans will require every inch of you intact."

As he leans into me I feel his powerful arousal. "Special plans?" I ask in a soft voice.

"Oh yeah, baby. Just you wait and see-after I undress you and carry you to our bed-you'll find out just how charming _and_ hot I can be."

..~*~..

The following week I get a phone call from Jasper with surprising news. Tashen and ArtOne were so pleased with the interview footage that they have decided to send me to Barcelona for Edward's show. They have several events planned, including a book signing and large reception for the opening of his exhibition. They already had interest in _Unspoken Truths_ from several of the local TV stations, but now that we both are coming they think that the two of us, with our playful banter, will make for good airtime. It would be a fast trip, only five days, two of which would be spent flying.

"But Jasper, I can't ask Carlisle for any more time off. At some point he is going to get fed up, and I can't do that to him…I owe him everything."

"Well, it looks like it is time for you to do some soul searching, Bella. Timing is everything, and opportunities like this may only come along once. If this is the direction you want your career to go, frankly you would be a fool to not go for it."

"I know…what should I do Jasper?"

"Talk to Carlisle. Explain to him how you are feeling. I'm sure he already sees the writing on the wall."

"Also, they would like you to be at a reception this Friday evening Art One is throwing for the launch of their new network."

"I've been hearing about their cable channel. It's all about art, right?"

"Yes-it's fantastic for all of us. It creates all kinds of opportunities. As for this party they want you to attend, of course Edward is invited as well. But you may not want to go together."

Instantly I get a very bad feeling. "Why not?"

"It's just like you guys being low key because you decided that you didn't want them to ask about your relationship on the video shoot interview."

"We decided to do that because we didn't want to focus on us, but the art. Attending a party is something else."

"Look, I'll be honest…if you are trying to establish yourself and have people take you seriously professionally, than it just looks better if you guys aren't openly involved so close to the time when you wrote _Unspoken Truths_."

"So now we have to pretend? He kissed me in front of everyone at Art Santa Fe. I think the cat is already out of the bag."

"But this is a different group, Bella, and they are watching you very closely right now. You won't have to be low key forever. But certainly through Barcelona."

"That would be torture…to be in Barcelona together and not be together."

"Well, for the record Edward is furious at me for even suggesting this. He doesn't know I'm talking to you about it because he wants the world to know he is in love with you. But it's not his reputation at stake, it's yours, and he doesn't seem to get that."

I am quiet as I think about everything he has told me.

"All right, let me talk to Edward first and then Carlisle-one hurdle at a time."

"Okay, and they will email you with the party details for Friday. I'm sorry that I'm making things difficult."

"It's okay, Jasper, I know you have my best interests at heart."

.

I am nervous to discuss Friday's logistics with Edward, and as predicted he is furious about the idea of going to the party separately.

"Bella, I want everyone to know I am with you…and that you are with me."

"I know, baby, but Jasper has a point. This is such an important point in my career, between my fuck up with James who I was working for, and then falling in love with you, I am not looking smart or professional. It's like I'm the harlot of art publishing-only one or two steps above art whore."

"I'm going to kill that asshole. I told Jasper not to talk to you about this. But did he listen? Fuck!"

"Edward do you want me to be successful?"

"Of course."

"Well then you have to help me with this. It's only for a couple of months-a few public events."

"So this includes when we will be in Barcelona?"

"If I can go to Barcelona. I haven't spoken to Carlisle yet."

"Look, I'll agree to play it cool this Friday as much as it pisses me off. But the rest of it I have to think about. I just don't like it."

"Okay, Friday's a start. Thank you, my love."

.

When I pull up to the valet Friday evening I notice that Edward's car is parked up front, and I feel a surge of longing to know he is at the party already. I realize that this is going to be harder than I thought.

When I get inside the sound stage there is music and large screens suspended high on the walls soundlessly showing footage from what I presume to be some of their shows for the network. There is a ton of people attending, and the bar and hors d'oeuvres servers are in full swing. My eyes scan the room until I finally see Edward. Of course he is cornered by a woman, but at least instead of an art whore she appears to be a network executive. She's sophisticated and attractive, but also middle-aged, so I breathe a sigh of relief.

As I wait in line at the bar a young guy approaches me. He has curly longer hair and a small gold hoop in one of his ears.

"Bella, right?"

He looks familiar and it hits me. "You were the camera man on Saturday…weren't you? I almost didn't recognize you without all your gear." I extend my hand out and he shakes it, smiling. He has an open, friendly face with huge brown eyes.

"Yeah, I'm Zach. Nice to see you again. By the way, you did a great job on that shoot. Is it true it was your first?"

"Yeah." I nod, embarrassed.

"Well, you are a natural, and I'm not just being polite. I do this shit all day long, so I've learned how to recognize natural talent."

Just then it is my turn at the bar, so I get a glass of wine and Zach a beer. Once we get our drinks we step off to the side.

"Wow, really? I mean I freak out just getting my picture taken. So I can't imagine anything natural about me in front of the camera."

"Why would you freak out? You are beautiful, and take it from me, you are very photogenic."

I'm a little uncomfortable with all this flattery-I certainly don't want to lead him on or even worse make Edward jealous. But just then I look up and notice that although Edward is still talking to the executive lady, he is staring at me as I talk to Zach. To say that he doesn't look happy is an understatement.

Zach seems to notice my attention drifting, and he offers to introduce me to some of the network execs. As I follow him to the other side of the room he shares one other interesting piece of information.

"You know, Bella, I overheard my producer talking about you on the phone. He was suggesting you for another project. It isn't my place to say what, but you should be aware that things could happen quickly for you. This business is crazy in that way."

My heart skips a beat. I can't believe what he is telling me.

"Anyway, if it does, we will get to work together again, and that would be cool."

With that we walk up to a group of people that includes the director from my shoot, who immediately takes my arm and introduces me to several producers and network people. I feel like a fish out of water, but I do my best to sound intelligent and more worldly than I actually feel. One severe looking woman tells me she often works with Nick Castallani and he told her about the Cindy Sherman project I am working on for him.

_Wow, this is a small world._

At one point Zach takes my empty glass then steps away towards the bar, returning to the conversation with new drinks for both of us. When the group gradually breaks apart he turns back towards me.

"See…what did I tell you?"

"What do you mean?"

"They are all watching you. This is how it starts."

Just then he looks up to my right, and I turn around to see Edward.

"Hey man." Zach reaches out to shake Edward's hand. "Good to see you again."

"Yes, Zach from the shoot, right?" Edward asks as he smiles at him.

He seems friendly enough, but I have my suspicions.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you guys, but Bella, there is someone that wants to meet you. Do you mind if I borrow her Zach?"

"Of course not." He turns towards me. "I'll catch up with you later, okay Bella?"

"Sure." I smile warmly at him as Edward pulls me away.

I walk a half-step behind him as we wind through the crowd. I'm not sure where he is taking me and I'm nervous. I haven't done anything wrong, but I know him well…he has a sixth sense about other men being interested in me, and it makes him crazy.

He heads right out the front door and into a makeshift patio behind a hedge that people must use for their breaks. He finally stops and turns towards me, his face twisted in a strange blend of anger and pain.

"What?"

"Do you know what it is like for me to have to stand back and watch men look at you like that and I can't do a damn thing?"

"Men watching me…oh please, you are just being dramatic."

I'm not surprised, knowing his tendency to be jealous, but it is aggravating and I'm really not in the mood for it tonight.

"I can't do this," he gasps, stepping back and pulling his hands through his hair.

"Can't do what?" I don't like the sound of this.

"Stand off to the side and pretend you aren't mine…that you aren't on my mind every waking moment. When I'm at a goddamn event like this I want my arm around you and you by my side. I want the world to know you are with me."

"Is this just about that cameraman? I think you want_ Zach_ to know I'm with you."

His voice gets lower toned and louder. "No, not just Jack… Zach… or whoever the fuck he is..."

Fury flashes in his eyes, but he steels himself by taking a deep breath. "I want every fucking man in that sound stage to know."

"You know I didn't go all postal on you when I saw you with that woman who had you cornered forever."

"She was old enough to be my mom, Bella. It's not the same."

"Don't tell me I can't feel anything when another attractive woman looks at you the way she did."

"Well, this bullshit plan of Jasper's sure is working out great," he spews sarcastically. "I should have never agreed to it."

"You aren't even trying, Edward. Fuck."

I nervously twist my earring and turn away, setting my wine glass down on the table next to us.

"You know what…I'm really tired, and I am done with this crap tonight. Let's shelve this for now. I'm going home, and I'll talk to you in the morning."

"No." He sounds panicked now. "You can't go."

"Oh yeah, try and stop me." I walk over to the valet stand and give the guy my ticket. Edward shadows me and hands his ticket to the second valet.

"Talk to me, Bella," he demands as the two valets scamper away to get our cars.

"No, I don't want to talk and talk and talk. I'm leaving the party, but I'm not leaving _you, _Edward. I just want to go home and sit and stare at a wall. I'm completely drained…it's been a long week."

Just then my car pulls up, and I give the guy a tip and slide inside.

"I'll call you in the morning." I close the door without waiting for his response. I know it is shitty, but he's really pissed me off with his caveman crap.

My mind is numb while I drive. Luckily I am on autopilot, so I am almost to my street before I realize it. I think I am home free until I glance in my rearview mirror and realize that Edward is tailing me.

_Fuck, that man is bullheaded. _When I pull up to my apartment to park he pulls up right behind me and quickly jumps out of the car. I sigh loudly.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not sure. All is know is that I have to talk to you. I can't just wait to hear from you…I'll go nuts."

He's making _me_ nuts and I'm losing my patience. "You are going to have to wait. This isn't just about what you want…what's good for you, you know."

I storm up the stairs with him right behind, pulling out my keys as I move. As I try to get the key in the door he presses up behind me.

"Bella, you aren't going inside without me."

Once the door is open and the alarm off, I turn to see him standing in the threshold, his expression haunted. I am shocked to see his eyes are glazed, and when he speaks his voice breaks.

"Please, Bella, please don't do this to me."

His despair takes me back, and I finally am able to step outside of myself enough to know that this means more to him than I understand. I may be tired and drained and prefer to wait until tomorrow to talk, but this is much bigger to him.

With this realization I shift and realize that if we are partners, I need to give his fears and feelings as much weight as my own. My guilt takes over, and suddenly I want to heal the open wound our fight has festered.

I gently place my hands on his chest and look up at him.

"Edward," I whisper tenderly…lovingly.

His eyes search mine wanting more.

"I love you," I say simply. "Why isn't that enough?"

"Enough," he gasps. "Oh my God, Bella, it's everything…maybe that's the fucking problem. It's too much sometimes-more than I can handle."

He looks down and pushes his hands in his pockets. "I'm broken here, baby, can you kiss me or something?"

I smile unexpectedly. "Edward, being in love with you is like a theme park ride. Thrilling and harrowing…and I had to wait in line so damn long to get on."

"And now you can't get off?" He gives me a weak but hopeful smile.

"Who says I want to?"

I can no longer resist him, so I close the gap between us and kiss him with everything I've got.

He almost buckles in relief and then pulls me into his arms. His mouth is warm and loving, but there is also desperation in his kiss, and I kiss him back just as fervently, hoping that he will feel all the love I have for him.

"Oh, this is what I need," he moans, kissing me again and again. He slides his hands down my back until they are cupping my ass and pulls me closer so he can push his arousal against me. "This is all I need."

He lifts me up, and I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. I cling to him as he kicks the front door closed and carries me to my bed.

Every part of our lovemaking is desperate, from the way we tear off each other's clothes, to the way he cries out when he plummets into me. We cover every square inch of the bed as we move over each other-grabbing, pulling, fucking hard. At one point when I am on top of him he lifts me off and pulls me forward until my sex is perched right over his face. He looks up at me with fire in his eyes and then he pulls me yet closer, devouring me with his tongue, tasting, plunging, sucking until I am screaming his name and pulling his hair. I almost black out from the sheer force of the orgasm.

He finishes on top of me, with my arms and legs wrapped around him clinging on for dear life. A primal moan escapes his lips with his final thrusts. We collapse together, sweaty and raw, covered in each other's arousal , burning eyes and wild hair. This is the hunger. This is who we are and who we are meant to be.

The wild night is quiet now. In our nest of sheets I burrow into him and purr contentedly. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me along as we surrender to the moonless night.

.

* * *

_**So we are discovering some of Bella's hidden talents. What do you think it means for the future? **_

_**Let me know-your reviews keep me on my game…**_

There will be a teaser on the Work of Art forum Wednesday http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

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_**See you next Saturday!**_


	45. Chapter 45  Spread Your Wings

_Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art._

_How lucky I am to have beta TwilightZoner and pre-readers CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen on my team!_

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**Work of Art Work of Art / Chapter Forty-Five / Spread Your Wings**

_You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes.  
You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.  
You're on your own. And you know what you know.  
You are the guy who'll decide where to go._

_Oh, The Places You'll Go ~ Dr Seuss_

_._

_.  
_

It's the end of a calm workday, and I finally gather up my nerve and approach Carlisle in his office.

"May I interrupt?" I ask timidly. I am nervous and he seems to sense this.

"Of course." He looks at me with curiosity and points to the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

I sit down and twist my hands in my lap. This is going to be even harder than I thought.

"I wanted to talk about my schedule."

"Yes?" He waits patiently. He doesn't look surprised at all.

"I am just feeling awkward because opportunities keep coming up and some require me to take time off, and I don't want to take advantage of you or disappoint you with my performance here."

"You've never disappointed me, Bella," he kindly offers.

"There you go, Carlisle. You're always too generous with me."

"Well, you know you're like a daughter to me and Esme."

"And that's why this is so hard for me."

"Has something specifically come up?"

"Well, Nick's office called and they've secured a time for me to interview Cindy Sherman, but it's this Thursday right after lunch. It's the only opening she has while she is in L.A."

"That isn't a big problem."

"No, but I've also heard from Taschen and ArtOne and they want me to go to Edward's show in Barcelona in a few weeks to promote the book. That means I would miss five days of work."

"I see." He steeples his fingers and looks over at the painting next to his desk.

I shuffle my feet under my chair.

"You know, Bella, it's probably time for us to have a bigger discussion about your career-about what your plans are-your dreams now that you've stepped out into the bigger world."

I nod my head. "Okay."

"First of all, that's so exciting that you get to go promote the book in Barcelona. I know I told you after you let me read your final draft what an amazing job you did, but I want to say again how proud I am of what you've accomplished."

I tip my head down embarrassed. "Thank you, Carlisle. It means so much to me to hear that from you."

"Well, it's true. Furthermore, you're going to love Barcelona. It's a magnificent city."

_I guess he's going to let me go._ I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Bella, I've known all along that you were destined for bigger things. I just figured that your time with us would be another part of your education, a launching pad if you will. I knew you just needed time to simmer for a while until you had the confidence to go out into the world."

I look at Carlisle with disbelief, and my eyes fill with tears realizing all he has done for me and what he's gently trying to tell me.

"Look, I haven't been completely selfless. You've been a great asset in the gallery. There wasn't a job I gave you that you couldn't do." He looks down and picks up his Murano glass paperweight, examining it for a moment. The swirls of color contained in the glass are like a peek inside my mind, vibrant but without constraint or a pattern to follow. "Are you excited about where things are headed?"

"Yes, I am. To get to write and talk about artists whose work moves me is a dream come true for me."

"See, I think it's time to spread your wings."

"It sounds like you are letting me go." I'm getting nervous since I am not ready to leave my little home here yet.

He chuckles softly. "No, I want you to work here as long as you need and want to. But meanwhile, I want you to take on these new projects and we'll work around it. Just remember us when you are famous, okay?" he teases.

"Oh yeah, as if!" I laugh lightly. But I am charmed by his complete confidence in my future success.

"I really appreciate your support, Carlisle," I continue. "I promise that I will make you proud."

"Oh, Bella, you already have. But enough of this love fest." He smiles playfully. "We could go on all afternoon. There is something else I want to talk about. How are things going with Edward?"

"Good," I reply hesitantly. "Why?"

I've heard from Emmett that you two are quite the couple, and I saw it for myself at Rose's wedding."

"I know you aren't Edward's biggest fan, Carlisle, but he's been working hard on turning himself around, and he's doing so well."

"Could being in love with the right woman have anything to do with that?"

"I hope so. I'd like to think so." I smile warmly.

"You love him, Bella, you don't even have to tell me. It's written all over your face."

"Head over heels, Carlisle…head over heels."

"As I suspected." He smiles. "Well, in that case, Bella, I wish you all the best. That boy better realize what he has in you."

"He does. And if you could know how he treats me, how he makes me feel-you would approve of him two hundred percent."

..~*~..

Thursday afternoon I practically run into the printing studio and grab Jacob.

"You'll never guess who I just met!"

"Can you give me a clue?"

I run karate chops down my arm stiffly, singing "Same as it ever was, same as it ever was."

"David Byrne?" He curses loudly and punches the cabinet. "Please don't tell me that you met David Byrne!"

"Okay, I won't tell you."

"You know The Talking Heads are one of my all time favorite bands. How did this happen? Why wasn't I with you!"

"Believe me, it was a surprise. Remember how I had an interview with that fine art photographer, Cindy Sherman? Well, he's her boyfriend, and they flew out from New York for him to meet with a group of Aborigine drummers that are here touring."

He groans happily. "How cool is that?" Jacob is such a fan boy.

"Pretty damn cool. And you know what else? Cindy was totally cool too. I had a great conversation with her, and I can't wait to start writing about what we talked about."

"That's awesome, Bella. You really are working on some big things now," he says, and it suddenly occurs to him that my world is shifting.

His expression falls. "You know, I'm okay with all of that as long as you promise to never leave me."

"Leave you?"

"Yeah, you know, working with me here…helping me on the press and stuff."

"I can't promise that, Jacob. I'm getting opportunities these days that may change the course of my career."

"I don't like the sound of that," he growls.

"Don't be that way," I tease him. "You know you will always be my special guy."

"You promise?" He doesn't sound convinced.

"I promise." I nod, but I have to wonder how close he and I would be if I didn't work with him on the press any longer.

It occurs to me that change is exhilarating but painful too. If I eventually leave the gallery, all my relationships with my friends there will shift. I am confident that my friendship with Emmett is for life but we would miss our daily exchanges, our impromptu lunches. Well at least among Carlisle, Emmett and Jacob, I feel that a dialogue has begun for whatever changes lie ahead.

..~*~..

The next morning Nick calls bright and early.

"You work fast, Ms. Swan."

"Work fast?"

"Charming the art community."

"Yes, well, I can't help it that I'm incredibly charming. But seriously Nick, what are you alluding to?"

"I just got off the phone with ArtOne. They heard about your work on the Cindy Sherman project, and they've arranged for you to interview her on camera. Similar, I guess, to what they had you do with Masen."

"Are you serious?" I gasp. Zach wasn't kidding. Things are moving fast.

"I don't joke about such things," Nick states emphatically. "You've made quite an impression. But seriously, Bella, I saw the Masen footage. It was brilliant…very fresh."

I feel myself flush crimson. _Brilliant? Holy hell._

"Thanks…but you know I am friends with Masen, so that was an easy interview. I highly doubt others will go like that."

"But Cindy liked you, so she agreed to it already. That is rather remarkable in itself."

"She did?" _Wow._

"So this will be a good test…to see if you are charismatic outside of Masen's spell. My guess will be yes. So prove me right, Ms. Swan."

"Yes sir!" I respond half playfully, half deadly serious. "I'll do my best."

..~*~..

By the following Thursday I am on a plane to New York for the shoot, and my world has fallen off its axle. I literally sit stunned on the entire flight trying to figure out why all this amazing stuff is happening to me. I am a nervous wreck, but I also feel like I'm holding the winning lotto ticket, and I'm determined not to screw it up.

After dropping my bags off at the SoHo hotel I meet with the ArtOne group for dinner in the Village, and we go over the schedule for the shoot in Cindy's studio. Although the segment will have the same director as Edward's shoot, they are using a New York production group for the camera work, sound and lighting. I can't imagine how I am going to be relaxed like I was with Edward but I know worrying about it won't help. So I drink some wine and just try to push my anxiety out of my mind. Later I'm excited to get back to the hotel so I can call Edward and actually have time to talk. I'm really missing him, and I need to hear his voice.

"Hi, love." He sounds so happy to hear from me.

"I miss you so much already, Edward. It's crazy since I just saw you yesterday…I wish you were here."

"I wish I was there too, baby. Hopefully next time this happens we'll be able to clear up our schedules so I can come, and then we can stay and play a couple of extra days."

He goes on to ask about the plans for the shoot and the people I am working with. I share all my excitement and anxiety, but I also frame all my answers intent on keeping his jealousy in check. Before he even has a chance to ask more questions I turn the tables on him and quiz him about his gallery event the next night.

"I have to warn you, mister, I'm sending Rose to the event to insure that the art whores are kept at bay."

"Are you now?" he asks playfully.

"And I don't like that gallery owner either," I insist. "She better keep her hands off you too, or I'll come rip them off her Barbie body."

"Oooo, I like my girl fierce. But please Bella, that woman is creepy. You know I have better taste than that."

"Hmmm, what is your taste exactly? I was under the impression that it was quite varied."

"That's where you are wrong-I'm extremely specific. I only like fair-skinned, long haired gorgeous brunettes with big brown eyes. The girl has to have full soft lips, legs that go on for days, and a smile that can melt the coldest heart. And I only like girls whose names start with B, and whose moans will undo you when you kiss her lush breasts. She's so sexy but doesn't wear it on her sleeve. I always want to wake up with her in my arms and then keep her in bed, tasting her and making love to her all day long. And best of all is that she is stronger, much smarter, and more talented than she realizes, and she only has eyes for me."

"Wow, that's quite a list Mr. Specific. I know someone who fits the bill, and ironically, she has a specific list as well."

"Really, I'd love to hear what's on her list."

"She likes tall, gorgeous men with auburn hair and wicked green eyes. He must have a chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and arms strong enough to carry her to his bed. Her ideal man bucks like a stallion charging through life, yet can have the softest touch when she needs his tender care. His brilliant mind challenges and inspires her, and his confidence in her will pull her through her times of doubt. He is everything she needs and everything she's ever wanted. And his kisses, have I mentioned his kisses?"

"Oh, Bella," he sighs.

I stop for a moment, imaging him pressed against me, and I squeeze my thighs together trying to push back the passion that this conversation is stirring up. There are twenty-five hundred miles between us, yet I want him desperately.

"I'm not done," I whisper.

"His kisses are poetry, tearing her open and infusing her soul. She drinks from his well over and over yet she's never full…so she carries the want, the thirst for him everywhere she goes. He's sexy as all hell and once he has her in his bed his passion and creativity are limitless. His cock is long, thick and so hard for her alone, and the way he moves when he's inside of her will send her into orbit every time."

"Fuck," he groans.

"And the sweetest part is that despite the heat that has always flamed between them, he was willing to wait for her until her heart could open, and now she is his."

"Forever," he whispers.

"Yes, forever."

..~*~..

I wake up remembering the late night call with Edward. In the dark of my room I was panting and clutching my phone with my fingers sliding between my legs as we shared all the ways we wanted each other. There is phone sex and then there's pure passion sizzling across satellites until you can feel him pushing in and out of you as he calls out your name.

In contrast to last night's surrender and contented collapse, the new day is the very definition of whirlwind. I am whisked out of my hotel at eight-thirty sharp to a waiting car. Cindy's loft is huge with large windows full of light, and the crew greets me warmly. The lighting guys have already done their magic, and I'm taken over to the area where the make-up artist is set-up.

Cindy had the idea of having me become a subject in one of her portraits from the working girl series. When she comes over to say hello, her make-up and hair are already done. As soon as I am seated the camera man begins shooting us as we prepare for the shoot. I love her beehive hairdo, and so our conversation starts with me trying to get her to switch wigs with me. But she won't be swayed, so I'm carefully fitted with the neat little bob wig she's picked out for me.

Next we banter in the wardrobe area. The zipper in my pencil skirt gets stuck, and so she helps me fix it. When I help her zip up, she shows me how she is wearing an old fashioned girdle with stockings because she likes to be completely authentic. Her attention to detail is remarkable.

Finally we go over to an area of her loft where an antique water cooler is perched against a beige wall. A vintage linoleum floor has been laid over her hardwoods, and there is an actual 1950's calendar hanging on the wall. She carefully explains to me what she is looking for as we do a series of photos of two secretaries gossiping at the water cooler. She is really serious when she is working, but during our breaks we tease each other about whose skirt is tighter and who is more likely to be doing the boss.

For the next segment the producer planned for us to try doing something completely out of character and away from the photography. One of the suggestions on a long list of the producer's was that we could make cookies with famous artist themes in her huge loft kitchen. This is the idea she finally agrees to.

Evidently Cindy loves to bake, and she likes to make sugar cookies with unusual shapes and different colored frosting combinations. Since today's theme is famous artists, the prop guy has all kinds of pastry bags full of different colors of frosting and jars of sprinkles ready for us.

The segment ends up being a riot when I turn the mixer on too high and we both get flour blown up into our faces. It's like an episode of _I Love Lucy,_ where Lucy has dragged Ethel into a bakery for some hair-brained scheme to make money. We laugh and tell each other favorite kitchen mishap stories. Somehow in our conversation we realize that we were both Girl Scouts when we were kids.

"I bet I sold more cookies than you," I challenge her. "I was a beast. I outsold my troop every year."

"Yeah, you probably kicked my cookie ass. I wasn't so into the cookie thing, although I did have an obese neighbor who would order thirty boxes of thin mints every year and fill up her freezer."

"Wow, that's a lot of _not so Thin Mints_. What was your favorite badge you earned?"

"I liked the weird ones. Like _animal husbandry_."

"There wasn't any animal husbandry badge, Cindy! Can you imagine what that one would look like embroidered though? Two animals humping? Yuck!"

"I guess it's time to admit that I wasn't much of a Girl Scout," she offers. "I wasn't so good at following all the rules. I was defiant. I mean if I wanted to make a miniature fort out of Popsicle sticks, I didn't want to follow badge guidelines. My Popsicle fort was straight out of the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari-all slanty walls and odd shaped windows. It kicked ass, and it became the permanent home for my troll collection."

"Those creative types." I shake my head and make a face for the camera. I turn back towards her. "Somehow I suspect you were lacking the true Girl Scout spirit."

"I suppose you're right," she admits. "I was destined to forge the unconventional path."

"Well, considering you are one of the first women to be recognized in the fine art photography world, I'm not surprised."

When we get to decorating, the final stage of the cookie bake-off, the lines on my Mondrian cookie are wobbly and unconvincing, and her attempts at Rothko are mediocre at best, so we convert the batch into the Jackson Pollock collection and randomly squirt thin lines of frosting haphazardly all over them.

To my surprise, as the day unfolds we discover a common ground of humor and viewpoint-except that she is a world famous artist and I am a fledgling writer at the beginning of my career.

By the time the director calls the final cut, I am slightly more optimistic than I was during the first shoot with Edward. My gut tells me we got some good stuff, and the look on the director's face only confirms my suspicion.

We wrap and say our goodbyes by four p.m., and I am anxious to get home so I head to JFK early for my seven-thirty flight. I call Edward from the airport and tell him about the shoot before I board the plane, and he sounds genuinely thrilled for me that it went so well. He is heading to the gallery event, but we agree that I will call again when I'm in the car service headed back to my apartment. I'm too wired from the exciting day to sleep on the plane, and I relive the events over and over in my head.

I arrive in L.A. around ten and stumble out of the plane towards the baggage claim area. When we finally get to the area for pick-up I start searching for my name on the little signs held up by the chauffeurs from the driving services. _Takamoto, Goldstein, Anders,_ and then my eye catches what I'm looking for…but something has been added. The sign says_, __**I Love **__**Bella**__ Swan_ with a big heart next to my name. My heart skips, and I look up to see Edward grinning ear to ear as he waves the sign at me. Standing behind him is a disgruntled driver with his arms crossed.

I run to him and practically land in his arms. Our kiss is passionate even by airport reunion standards. The driver clears his throat uncomfortably.

"Bella, you are going to have to tell Mr. Driver Guy that I am authorized to take you home. He wouldn't believe me. I practically had to wrestle the sign out of his hands."

I laugh happily. "What a great surprise, Edward. But I thought you would still be at your show."

"Why would I linger at a show when I know my baby is on her way back to me?"

I kiss him again. "I'm so glad you came to get me. And the sign…well, that was the sweetest welcome ever."

I turn back to the driver. "Yes, thank you but my boyfriend will take me home."

He has me sign his receipt form and leaves us without another word.

..~*~..

I hold Edward's hand and look out the window in a daze as we wind our way along Pacific Coast Highway towards his home. The moon is high in the sky, and I am enchanted by the way its silver light shimmers across the ocean. The shocking difference between a day where I walked the crowded streets of Manhattan and now as we glide past the quiet empty beach in Malibu is startling and profound. My breath suddenly catches in my throat as it all hits me. Can I find a balance between so many different worlds? Can I hold these new found gifts in my hands without my fingers sagging under their delicate weight?

I know that my silence and twirling mind spooks Edward, but I stroke his hand reassuringly. Because I am beyond exhausted when we step into the house, he seems unsure of what to say or do. He decides to feed me, and he heats up the leftover pasta from his dinner and pours me a glass of Pinot Noir. We sit at the kitchen island, and he watches me eat as if each bite is his own. I lick my lips and watch him watch me, too exhausted to make much conversation.

After dinner I shower and crawl into bed, still damp and disoriented. He pulls me into his arms and rubs my back gently. I'm so in love and happy to be back home with him, and I tell him that in quiet mumbles. I have a vague memory of my knee hitched up against his erection but sleep takes me hard.

The next morning dawns in a gray quiet light, and I lift my head to look out the window and see a thick blanket of fog draped across the Malibu horizon. I settle back into the bed and watch Edward as his chest rises and falls with each breath. I observe him for a long while and become overwhelmed with the desire to see more of him. So excruciatingly slowly, I pull the sheet off to reveal his incredible body. His thighs…God, I love his strong thighs and the way they are slightly parted, leading my view to his beautiful cock laying semi-erect across his toned stomach. My insides curl with desire as I reach out and lay my hand against him, and he bucks as he grows beneath my touch.

I am glad at this moment to be naked and warm, my arousal spreading like a simmering fire between my legs. My fingers wrap around his erection with one hand, the other dipping between my legs to feel the heat and wetness. I want him so much that it's beyond me to wait. I quietly lift myself up and straddle him, determined to take him any way that I can. He is completely hard now, and I lower myself slowly over him until I'm exquisitely full.

I still for a moment, and inexplicably, tears fill my eyes. I love this man, and when we are joined together all I know in life is the shape of my passion. Sometimes it manifests as an emerald dragon flapping its wings and breathing fire, or like this morning, when I am a slow moving Siberian tiger who has crawled over their mate. I lean down and lick his neck. His taste and the Edward smell of musk, paint, and salt air arouses me further. He is stirring out of the deepest sleep, but as I begin to rock over him his eyes suddenly pull open.

"Bella, I thought I was dreaming and didn't want to wake up," he moans as he watches me wide-eyed. "What are you doing to me, baby?"

"Good morning, handsome," I purr. I am fulfilling a need, my desperate need for him. "Is this okay? I couldn't wait."

"Yeah, it's okay," he moans, smiling lazily as he thrusts up to meet me. "I take it you missed me."

"You have no idea," I gasp as I take him in again.

There is something so intoxicating about how he makes me feel as he looks up at me-his expression full of love. His eyes are wide now and alert to my movements. His hands grasp my hips and guide me as I rise and fall over him.

"Baby," I whisper. "I love you." My nails dig into his shoulders. I am so close. "Hold me tight…don't let go, Edward. Don't ever let me go."

His eyes glaze over, and he pulls me towards him so firmly that I imagine sinking inside of him. "I've got you, Bella." His words spark the fuse, and I feel myself seize with pleasure. He watches me, thrusting hard now, and he pushes me over the finish line before finally joining me.

I fall down on top of him as we are both trying to catch our breath before I roll over and curl up into his side.

"Round one," he laughs as he nuzzles and kisses me.

"Yeah, wait until we have our coffee. I'm already imagining round two, but I'll definitely need breakfast first." I settle back into the sheets and we lay quietly.

My limbs are loose and happy and my head as clear as the early morning beach. This time it is Edward whose mind is swirling, full to the brim, and I wait for him to spill.

"I can hear your wheels turning. What are you thinking about?" I trace circle eights lightly with my fingertips across his chest.

"Your birthday." He grins and pulls me closer.

"Oh, it's next Saturday, isn't it!" I am a little girl complete with party hat and balloon. "Can we do something special?"

"Oh, girlfriend," he teases. "It's already all planned."

"Really?" I ask excitedly. "What are we going to do?"

"I'm not telling…it's a surprise. But when you spend the night Friday, make sure and bring your swimsuit and something nice to wear."

"Oh I love surprises!" I giggle as I roll back on top of him and kiss him playfully, but as I feel his growing hardness pressing against my belly the embraces become more heated.

_Will I ever get enough of this man?_ I don't seem able to help myself…I can't stop kissing and touching him. Apparently he feels the same.

"Bella, Bella," he groans, flipping me over and spreading my legs apart so we can be closer where it counts. As he climbs over me I see the hunger in his eyes and it isn't for pancakes.

So much for coffee and breakfast. Looks like round two has begun.

.

* * *

_**Oh….if it were your birthday where would you want Edward to take you? I can't wait to hear from you…**_

_**As for me, you'll know my answer to that question when you read the next chapter!**_

_I have taken creative license with Cindy Sherman in this chapter but I'm a big fan of hers so it was done in good spirit._

There will be a teaser on the Work of Art forum Wednesday http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

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Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

_**See you next Saturday!**_


	46. Chapter 46  Luckiest Girl in the World

_Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art._

_A big thanks to my beta TwilightZoner and pre-readers CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen._

**YOU GUYS ROCK! Work of Art made it to the final round (top 5 in each category) in the Avante Garde Awards:** **http:/twilightfb-awards (dot) blogspot (dot) com** (to link remove spaces and add dots)

Work of Art is nominated for Must Read Story and Best Author. **The voting to decide the final winners starts today…so please vote for your favorites one last time…thanks!**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Forty-Six / The Luckiest Girl in the World**

_Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time. ~Jean Paul Richter_

.

I am stirred awake by the muffled sounds of things crashing and Edward cursing. I quickly get up, pull my robe on over my naked body, and head downstairs. The noise continues and leads me to where my real life Tasmanian Devil is tearing up his kitchen. I stand in the doorway, silently watching.

"Motherfucker!" he yells as he rips something the shape of a small black briefcase off the counter, barrels out the door, and hurls it over the patio edge. The resulting sound of it landing is quite dramatic.

He storms back inside, takes a large plastic bowl, and slams it into the sink. The contents of the bowl shoot up, coating the backsplash rather spectacularly. He then turns away from the mess and notices me as he pounds his fists on the counter.

"Fucking great, and here you are awake and out of bed!"

"Good morning to you too," I say in as neutral of a voice that I can muster. I casually stroll out the door and look over the railing. There are large pieces of a black and silver object scattered over the rocks. A long thin tail trails away from one of the pieces, and I realize this must have been some type of electrical appliance.

I walk back inside. "So what did that thing do to you to deserve such an untimely death?"

"It didn't fucking work," he grumbles, his tone no longer explosive.

"What about the idea of returning an appliance that doesn't work to the store, rather than hurling it onto the rocks?"

He huffs and storms out the door again. I wait a moment then step back out to the patio. He is navigating the rocks below and picking up the various pieces.

I smile and go pour myself some coffee. It's then that I notice a breakfast tray set up on the corner of the kitchen island. There is a cloth napkin with good silver, a glass of orange juice in a wine stem, and a small vase with a garden rose. My heart swells. My man was making me breakfast in bed for my birthday.

When he comes back into the kitchen, he takes the pieces from his arms and one by one shoves them into the carton on the back counter. I can see from the packaging that this was once a waffle maker. As he puts the last piece inside, I walk over to him and wrap my arms around him from behind.

"I'm sorry the stupid thing didn't work, baby."

"I was trying to make you breakfast in bed for your birthday and now it's ruined. I wanted everything to be perfect today."

"Nothing's ruined," I assure him as I turn him around and look up at him.

"The gift to me is knowing all the effort you were making to do it. I love you so much for that." I reach up and kiss him gently, and I can see his tension dissipate.

He wraps his arms around me and sighs.

"Besides," I continue as I rest my hand over his heart. "What is perfect to me is waking up here at the beach with you. Look at that weather, it's a glorious day. Why don't you jump in the shower and then come down and we will have breakfast on the patio."

"But the waffles…" he insists.

"I don't care if we eat corn flakes, as long as you are here with me."

He smiles warmly and gives me a kiss before heading upstairs.

I take the bowl of cut peaches and berries that he had prepared for the waffles and divide them between two bowls. Then I find a box of mueslix in the cupboard and pour it over the fruit. I finish by taking the whipped cream and folding it into the other ingredients.

By the time I've set us up in the outside living room and pour out his coffee and juice, he has rejoined me. His hair is wet and tousled, and his worn jeans are hanging low on his hips. He has a T-shirt, but it is still in his hand.

"No fair," I warn him. "You don't expect me to actually eat with you looking like that?" I run my hand across his defined chest and abdomen.

He grins and pulls on his T-shirt. "Better?"

"Not better…just necessary. It can come off again after breakfast."

.

He feeds me bits of what he dubs _breakfast ambrosia_ as I play footsie with him, our legs intertwined on the ottoman.

"See, this isn't so bad," I tease him, licking the peach juice from my lips.

"Not bad at all," he agrees. "Thanks for always making things better, baby."

I lean over to kiss him and my robe falls open. Never one to miss an opportunity, he reaches over and caresses my breast as the kiss heats up.

"Time for the T-shirt to come back off," I whisper as I slide my hand up his thigh, resting my hand over his growing arousal.

"Mmmm," he moans, and as soon as his shirt hits the ground he pulls open my robe.

.

"Where are you? You have a faraway look in your eyes." His voice is low and raspy as I rock my hips slowly. He is lying back against the cushions as I straddle him, the sun on my back and the breeze from my ocean rustling my hair. I'm glad people can't see the back of the patio from the beach, because we are buck naked and having hot outdoor sex for our breakfast desert.

I watch him hold my breasts in his hands and run his tongue over my nipples as he patiently waits for my answer. "I'm having a déjà vu," I offer.

He gently puts his hands on my hips to stop me. "I don't remember us making love on this couch before," he comments, looking up at me with a curious expression.

"No, but we did in my mind. Remember the first time I came to your house? Alice was with me and we had lunch. Jasper was here too."

"Yes." His eyes twinkle in the sun as he remembers.

"When we went to leave that day, I was so attracted to you that I had this vision of you making love to me out here, just like this."

"So this is a dream come true," he teases as he goes back to sucking on my breast. I rock harder in response and feel him push even further inside of me.

I sigh as I feel a mixture of joy and pleasure surge through me. "Yes it is, handsome. Everything about this is a dream come true."

..~*~..

"Okay, did you get everything?" he asks as he loads our bags in the Porsche.

"I think so: swimsuit, nicer outfit, clothes for tomorrow, toiletries and pj's."

"Who said anything about pj's, woman? I want you naked in my bed."

"I know, I was just testing you."

He swats my butt lightly then opens the door for me. I don't stop my skirt from hiking all the way up as I slide into the car, and he watches appreciatively.

"So where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough."

Less than thirty minutes later he takes a turn off Sunset Blvd. and starts winding through a wooded area, finally turning into the driveway for the Hotel Bel Air.

"We're staying here?" I gasp.

"Yeah, I wanted to take you away for the weekend, but when I found out I had to do that interview tomorrow this seemed like the next best idea."

"Next best?" I question, laughing. "Hardly…I've always wanted to stay here. It's so beautiful."

The valet takes our car, and we walk over the bridge with the stream trickling below. Just beyond is a little lake with a family of swans. It's hard to believe this fairytale land is in L.A.

After we check in we are led to our gorgeous room, which has a large sitting area. Edward looks at his watch after he sets the bags down.

"Are you hungry? We have reservations in a few minutes. I can't believe it's almost two o'clock."

"Well, you kept distracting me this morning," I huff playfully.

"Why do I always get blamed for the sex? You seemed to want to be distracted."

"That I did," I agree.

"Well, hang up your things, beautiful, and we'll go eat. "

As I take out my clothes, I notice him pull a gift bag and card out of his satchel before taking my hand and leading me out to the dining patio.

.

"Masen," he says to the maitre d'. "Two for tea."

"Are we having high tea?"

He smiles at me and nods.

"Oh, this is so perfect. You know what, Mr. Masen?"

"What?" he asks as we slide into our booth.

"I love you."

He takes my hand and kisses it. "I love you too, baby. Happy Birthday."

I look up and realize that we are cocooned in an alcove that looks out on the swan lake. The patio is covered with drapings of fuchsia bougainvillea, and the tender petals drop around us like summer snow. The back of our seating is layered with richly upholstered down pillows, and I fight the urge to lie down across them. This is decadence defined.

We are immediately served champagne as we look at the tea menu and make our choices. The waiter takes our order and brings over the tiered tray of sandwiches, petit fours and scones. I think back to our fancy high tea at the St. Regis hotel in New York right after we had met. This tea is the equivalent in terms of opulence, but California style.

.

"Do you remember when you first knew you loved me?" Our hands are wound together.

"The moment we met." He grins mischievously.

"Not lust, love."

He thinks about it for a minute. "It's not going to be what you expect."

"And what do you think I expect?" I ask.

"That it was when you jumped into my arms when we were bowling, or the day at Huntington Gardens."

"Well, for your information, I would have never guessed something that early in our sordid past. I was thinking after you read the book in Ojai-that night on Ann's couch."

"Ojai? You are so dense about these things, woman. You are wrong, wrong, wrong," he teases me. "I fell in love with you way before that…it was that night you yelled at me in my studio."

"You have got to be kidding…that is messed up! You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm completely serious. When you walked out that night after nailing my ass to the wall, I felt as if I had been struck by lightening. No one had ever cared about me enough to risk everything by standing up to me. I instantly knew you were the girl who would own my heart. I lay awake all night plotting as to how I could get you to love me too. Unfortunately, all my attempts were misguided, and I only made things worse for myself."

"Now _you're_ wrong, baby…don't underestimate what the flowers and painting did to me. You are one hell of a woo-er."

He laughs. "Will you make sure it says that on my headstone in sixty years? _He was one hell of a woo-er."_

"Okay, as long as mine is next to yours and says…_she loved being woo-ed_."

.

About an hour and many conversations later, while amped up on tea and the sugary pastries, Edward opens up the gift bag and pulls out two long narrow boxes, one about the size of a woman's wallet and the other much smaller. He then sets a card in front of me.

"I want to give you your presents now," he says quietly with a sweet smile. "I can't wait any longer."

I pull the card out of the envelope and smile as I run my finger over the front of the hand-made picture. I recognize the image as inspired by the crayon drawing of us he had done on the restaurant craft paper in Santa Fe. But this version is intricately hand-painted.

"So beautiful," I sigh as I squeeze his hand. I slowly open it and read his words.

_My beautiful Bella,_

_You have made all my dreams come true and I am going to spend the rest of my days making your dreams come true too. One of your gifts today will be a good start. _

_You are my heart, my fire, my friend, my love…._

_Happy Birthday, baby._

_Love,_

_Your Edward_

My eyes fill with tears, and I quickly brush them away. This is a joyful moment, no time for crying.

"This is all the gift I need," I whisper, kissing him softly.

"Ha," he scoffs as he reaches for the smaller of two gift boxes and sets it in front of me. "The next gift will be the dream gift. This one is a celebration of you and me."

I carefully pull on the ends of the satin ribbon and watch the bow unfurl. The box is wrapped in a sheet of rice paper with delicate swirls of color. When I lift the lid off the box there is a long velvet box inside. _A bracelet or watch_, I guess.

I snap open the lid to discover a delicate silver charm bracelet. I turn and smile at him, and he is grinning like a kid. He reaches over to take it from me. "Here, let me show you."

He pulls the bracelet out of the box and holds it up towards the light. "See, first we have the apple from when we met in New York."

I study the tiny apple, complete with stem and leaf. It has the _I heart NY_ logo engraved onto its face.

Next he balances on his finger tip a tiny silver angel complete with wings. "You're my angel," he says happily as he kisses me on the cheek.

The next charm is a stand out. It's an artist's palette with a teeny paintbrush lying across its face. Instead of color where the spots of paint should be, there are different colored jewels set into the silver. It's exquisite.

"Because I'm an artist and you're part of the art world too," he explains joyfully, even though it really requires no explanation.

Next is a miniature silver book. I have to squint to read the title, _Unspoken Truths._ He reaches over and snaps the lid open and I gasp. In tiny letters it says _By Bella Swan._

"Oh, Edward, this is unbelievable. Where did you get this made?"

"This is from the jeweler my dad always uses. He's amazing." He turns back to the bracelet. "Look, Bella, this is a bowling pin from when we went bowling. I picked that because I felt like our relationship really shifted that night."

I touch the little pin that has a red stripe painted around its neck. I can't believe how much thought he has put into this.

The next charm makes me giggle. It is a teeny tiny Starbucks cup that has been enameled white, complete with a microscopic green logo. Above the logo the word _Ojai _has been engraved.

"The Starbucks psychic," I whisper.

"She knew I was waiting for you," he confirms.

He points out the silver lightning bolt next.

"Harry Potter?"

He nods. "I also picked it because, like I said earlier, falling in love with you was like being hit by lightening."

"Wow," I sigh happily.

It is difficult to know for sure what the next charm is. It looks like a red pickle with a green stem. Then dangling next to it is a tiny red heart and a teeny silver ladder.

"I had a hard time deciding what should represent Santa Fe. I almost went with a cow's skull because it reminded me of our rendezvous in the Georgia O'Keefe museum, but I thought the skull just didn't seem right. Instead I picked a little chili pepper because it has the double meaning of Santa Fe and how hot you are, baby. The ladder is for our day in Bandalier, sitting with you in the cliff dwellings."

"Awww, and the little heart?"

"Well, Santa Fe is where I finally declared my love and made love to you. The best moments of my life."

"Mine too," I concur as I reach over and stroke his cheek lovingly.

"And this?" I push the little fish attached a few links down so that it sways back and forth from the chain.

"That represents Malibu, from my koi pond, and of course the ocean. I want you to always know that my home is yours."

I squeeze his hand and look at him. I can only hope he can see all the love in my eyes.

There are two left. The first is a miniature clap-board like they use in movie productions. "For all the promise of your career."

"Oh Edward," I sigh. "This is so special."

He is most proud of the final charm. He gently holds it between his fingers. "And this is you and me…the infinity symbol, because we will go on and on. See our names are engraved here…one on each loop. The diamond in the center represents us together because together we are so much more than when we are apart."

He reaches over and uses his fingernail to open the delicate clasp, then wraps the bracelet around my wrist and catches the loop and closes it.

I shift my wrist back and forth in the light, admiring all the love and effort he put into my special gift. I reach up and frame his face with my hands. "This is by far the most wonderful and thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me, Edward. I will cherish it always."

"Oh, Bella," he says softly as I lean it to kiss him. Our lips move together gently, full of love and reverence. I sense the ferns that surround our alcove are shimmering in the breeze as the dappled light falls over us. I don't know when I have felt more special, more adored.

When we finally pull apart he grins widely. "One more!" He carefully hands me the second gift.

"This is too much," I say, not completely convincingly.

"There is never too much when it comes to you."

I sigh and slowly pull the ribbon off.

When I lift the lid there is a long flat piece of spun cotton and nestled on top is a single silver charm. I pick it up and my heart skips with the possibilities.

"The Eiffel Tower?" I ask as I turn it in gently between my fingertips.

"There's more….look under the cotton."

I lift up the white fluff and underneath there is a document, some type of certificate. Upon closer examination, I realize it is a voucher for two plane tickets to Paris.

"Paris? We're going to Paris?" I squeal, trying to keep my voice down.

"I thought in the fall…it's such a nice time to be there. I know you will love it, Bella. I can't wait to show you the City of Light."

"Oh my God, Edward, you have no idea how much I have dreamed of seeing Paris. And now to see it with you…well, it is a dream come true." I throw my arms around him and for a blissful moment I forget worries of my job and how Carlisle will take the news of a vacation on top of all the other work I have missed. But right now, I can't care… I just want to soak in the image of Edward and me walking along the Seine, or sitting in a little outdoor café watching the world go by. I thank him with my kisses over and over until we have to part to breathe again.

With my next thought, though, my eyes darken and Edward notices. "What? Is there something wrong?"

I laugh at my problem. "Edward, I will never be able to keep up with you when your birthday comes around. This is so over the top."

"You know I don't care about stuff, Bella. Just wrap yourself in a big bow-you're all I want."

"But you already have me. There has to be something you would like, somewhere I can take you." I look back at the grounds of the hotel and try to imagine where it could be.

He taps his fingers on the table thinking.

"I know. I want you to bake me a cake and take me on a picnic…somewhere secluded. And I want to you wear something really sexy under your clothes. Lingerie I've never seen you in before."

"That can be arranged."

"See, that wasn't so hard." He kisses me again and then motions to the waiter who comes over with the check.

"We have to go change now. I booked us massages."

_Oh my, my perfect day just keeps getting better and better._

_._

The spa is just a short stroll down the garden path so we wear our white terry robes and slippers to our appointment. Edward has booked a husband and wife massage team so I don't get my panties in a bunch about some strange woman rubbing hot oil all over his delectable body. I appreciate his gesture more than he knows, as I doubt I'd be able to relax while that was happening.

We are led to the room in the spa that features a custom designed double massage table. The design has its challenges in that each masseuse can only work on one side of our legs and arms each direction, but the benefit is that we can hold hands and be touching while they work. They give us a private moment so that we can remove our robes and get under the privacy sheet on the table. We've been instructed that they will start with us on our stomachs. I giggle as I scoot around until I get my face correctly positioned in the oval opening in the table. It's the first time in my life I wished I were flat-chested, since there is no where for my breasts to go and I have to wiggle around until I get comfortable. Edward clearly has had a lot of massages because he settles in quickly.

Victor, a tall Norwegian-looking fellow, and his dark haired wife Sharon, come in and get things started. Soothing music starts playing, and Sharon carefully pulls my sheet down revealing my back and squirts hot oil into her hands while Victor begins with Edward. Sharon starts with my shoulders and then makes long strokes all the way down to my ass. I catch myself about to moan, and I clamp my lips shut remembering that Edward is next to me, not massaging me. I reach out and find Edward's hand which is searching for mine as well. Our fingers intertwine as our hands settle back down onto the table.

Within minutes I am a puddle of goo on the table, as relaxed as I've ever felt. I decide to lift my head out of the oval to sneak a peak at Edward and see how he is doing. Other than him snaking his foot over to connect to my foot, I haven't heard a peep.

When I turn towards him I am surprised to see his head is not in the opening either but turned towards me and lying on the table. He is watching Sharon run her fingers over my ass and towards my shoulders and back. The look in his eyes sets me on fire. Watching me get massaged is obviously turning him on.

I squeeze his hand, and he looks up into my eyes, giving me a lazy, sexy smile. I smile back before fitting my face into the table opening again. I am vaguely aware of my right arm and leg being worked, on but as I get more and more relaxed I fall into a deep sleep and don't wake up until Sharon gently tells me that it is time to turn over.

"How are you doing, baby?" Edward asks as we slowly rearrange ourselves.

"Unbelievable," I groan. "I fell asleep I was so relaxed.

"Yeah, you look great."

I stay awake for the second part of the massage, but as they begin to massage our scalps I become award that Edward's breathing has changed and he is now sound asleep. I watch him for a moment; the sheet is really low on his hip giving me the perfect view of his handsome profile, wonderful chest and ripped stomach.

All too soon Sharon whispers in my ear that we are done. I look over at Edward, hating to wake him up, but Victor explains that the room isn't booked for another two hours so we can take our time leaving. I sign the receipt and they gather their things.

"I'll put the _do not disturb_ sign on the door," Sharon whispers with a wink. "You can even lock it behind us." I smile and nod my head.

After they quietly leave I lie on my side watching Edward, wondering what I want to do with him. I am already aroused at the thought of all the things I could do as he lays here asleep and unaware. _Damn, he is gorgeous._

I slowly slide off my side of the table and put the slippers on my oily feet before I lock the door. It's a little weird walking around naked but rather freeing at the same time. I step over to Edward and slowly pull off his sheet, realizing that I was pulling a sheet off him while he slept just over a week ago. I am becoming insatiable-a stealth love thief taking what pleases me while my innocent lingers under the dark cloak of sleep.

Removing the bottle of oil out of the warming contraption, I coat my hands generously and start to run them up and down Edward's thighs. He doesn't react at first, but when I push his legs apart, coat my hands with more oil, and then start to stroke his inner thighs, I see him stir. His cock starts to respond, and I run my hands now over his hips, up to his belly, and then down his pelvis to his inner thighs-just missing his swelling erection every time. By the time I make the fourth pass he is fully aroused.

"Bella," he gasps, finally coming to and lifting his head to watch me.

My prince has woken.

"What's happening?" He looks around confused.

"They finished and left me to my own devices. Don't worry, the room is locked and we have it to ourselves for a while.

His head falls back on the table, and I take another squirt of warm oil and begin to massage his balls.

"Jesus," he moans before lifting his head again. "Why are you down there-come up here on the table with me."

I smile and climb aboard, then pull his legs further apart before crawling in between them. I continue my long strokes. I like how he is completely exposed to me…completely vulnerable. He watches me with a hungry look in his eyes.

"Can I put you in my mouth?"

He lets out a sharp breath and nods his head.

With my hands still stroking his inner thighs, I run my tongue from the base of his erection to the tip and back again.

Another sharp breath. "Fuck."

I take the bottle and drizzle warm oil around the base of his cock, wrap my nimble fingers over the oil and around him while I lower my mouth down, completely taking him in. From the way he is moaning and writhing it's apparent he is having a great time.

It's amazing what you can do with your tongue when you're relaxed.

The most arousing part for me is watching him watch me as I swirl my tongue softly around his hardness while my fingers do their magic stroking him. His eyes project the most intoxicating blend of lust, need, want and love. I moan and hum happily, and that only gets him more worked up.

Yet suddenly something occurs to him and he pulls himself up.

"Wait a minute, this isn't my birthday."

"So?" I respond after releasing him from my warm mouth.

"So, nothing…lay down here next to me and hand me that oil." He pats the table with one hand and reaches out with the other.

'Your generosity knows no bounds," I whisper, deciding not to fight him. I lie down.

"Spread your legs," he commands with a smile.

I spread them wide and wait silently. He takes the oil and runs a line heading up from one knee, along my inner thigh, across my pelvis, and back down the other thigh. His strong hands then work the oil into the skin, rubbing my inner thighs, working higher and higher until he is just where I want him to be.

He lifts the bottle high over me and releases a thin thread of oil into my heat. His fingers immediately follow. My back arches and my eyes close from the intensity of the sensation. I feel his fingers inside me and around me, and the effect is pulling me apart like the ripest orange, sticky segments full of juice.

I squint up at him and see utter concentration, like a professor waiting to see when his experiment will peak. He is overwhelmed with want; he needs to be inside me, but he needs to see me climax more. With wonder in his eager eyes he watches me as I finally come undone.

As soon as I take my first deep breath he is in me. "Yes," I moan as I grab onto him. Now that he has entered me, I don't ever want him to leave. We are slick with oil and in an altered state from the massage, so everything feels more intense, more sensuous. My walls clench around his cock as if they could hold him in. My raw hunger makes him wild.

"Bella," he groans as he thrusts. It's not enough…he lifts one of my legs and sets it on his shoulder as he goes deeper still. It's like he wants to be inside of me, not just his cock, but his entire being. I gasp with the force of each thrust.

All I have to do to understand his passion is open my eyes and see the fierceness in his expression, the sweat on his brow and the grit of his teeth. My man perseveres like an athlete until I come again, and as soon as I start he joins me.

When we finally settle I realize we are partially hanging off the table, and so we laugh, rolling to safety of the center until we can catch our breath.

When we finally leave the spa, I can't even walk straight as we head back to our room. I'm so happily spent. I'm hoping he is planning on room service because I doubt I can drum up the motivation to go out. I curl up on the bed as he showers, finally pulling a power drink out of the mini-bar in search of a caffeine buzz.

He finishes his long shower and comes into the bedroom to dress. "It took forever to get all that oil off of me. I'm just warning you, baby, step into the shower carefully or you'll find yourself on your ass." He pulls on slacks and a sweater.

"Thanks for the warning" I laugh. "What time is it anyway?" I ask, forgetting that there is a clock right behind me.

"Six-thirty," he replies. "We have dinner reservations at eight. I thought we could have a drink on the patio first."

He must have turned his phone back on because he suddenly gets a text prompt. He immediately reads it and replies while I get up and head to the bathroom.

Luckily the caffeine has kicked in, so I get my second wind in the shower and pull myself together with ease. Edward smiles when he sees I'm wearing the navy dress from the wedding. I remember how much he liked how it hugs my curves just so. He helps me put my bracelet on again and we head out the door.

When we turn the corner to head into the patio I find my final birthday present of the evening. Gathered around a large table are Alice and Jasper, Esme and Carlisle, Emmett and Ted, and Rose and Lauren and they are all grinning expectantly, waiting for my reaction to the surprise. I turn towards Edward in shock.

"You arranged all this and kept it secret?"

He nods, watching me carefully. I can see he wonders if he did the right thing.

I wrap my arms around him tightly. "Thank you, baby…no one ever in my entire life has made me feel more special." I kiss him, and as I pull away his expression lights up the entire patio.

I step forward into the waiting arms of my friends—my true family. As they shower me with kisses, hugs and well wishes I am infused with love and light, and I know without a doubt that I am the luckiest girl in the world.

.

* * *

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_**Oh Edward…has he won you over yet?**_

There are pictures of the Hotel Bel Air on the Work of Art forum http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

Remove spaces and turn (dot) into .

Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

_**See you next Saturday!**_


	47. Chapter 47  El Hombre de mis Sueños

_Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art._

_A big thanks to my beta TwilightZoner and pre-readers CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen. I'm very grateful for their help and support._

_BTW: Edward wanted me to let you know that although he isn't available for birthday/celebrations training (many of you requested it for your husbands and boyfriends)…he is very touched by the love you showered him with in last chapter's reviews. He and Bella send their very best._

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**Work of Art / Chapter Forty-Seven / El Hombre de mis Sueños**

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Guess who's looking for you?" Carlisle asks when Emmett and I come back from lunch.

"Who?"

"Edward's dad, Masen Sr."

"Really? Did he say what he wanted?"

"Oh, he said all kinds of things. He was trying to get me to spill about you and Edward, but I told him he should talk to you. Here," he says as he hands me a post-it note. "There's his number."

He shakes his head smiling. "He hasn't changed a bit."

.

This time I only have to wait a moment until he picks up the line.

"Is this the beautiful Bella?" he booms into the phone.

"Mr. Masen," I say sweetly. "I hear you were looking for me."

"You admitted you were pretty last time, my dear, but you didn't tell me gorgeous!"

"Excuse me?"

"I saw your video…the one where you are interviewing my son. One of my guys did post-production on it, and when he realized who the subject was he brought it to me."

"I see. Well, what did you think of it?"

"You're a looker. My son always did have good taste in women. We do have a few things in common, you know."

I smile to myself. _This guy has a one track mind._

"No, I mean what did you think of the interview?"

"You're a natural…but I knew you were a lady of many talents. As for Edward, you made him look really good. I hope he appreciates you."

"Thank you for the compliment. Edward does appreciate me."

"Well, he's obviously in love with you. But what I want to know is if you are in love with him?"

"A good player doesn't show all her cards at once…does she, Mr. Masen?"

He lets a low whistle out into the receiver.

"If that's how we're going to roll then let the games begin. I'll be expecting you and Edward for lunch Saturday at the Polo Lounge. My girl Angela will call you with the details. I think it's time my son and I call a truce, and I think you've got the skills to facilitate that."

"Considering that you haven't met me, Mr. Masen, you certainly have a lot of blind faith in my abilities."

"Following my gut about people and their talents is how I became wealthy in this business, Miss Swan. And you, my dear, seem to be the Henry Kissinger of the heart. I'm sure of it. Last time we talked the asshole had gone off the deep end and run away. From the way he looked on the video, he had pulled himself together very nicely. I sense you had a big hand in that."

"Well, thank you. Honestly, I'd like to see the two of you be closer."

"Hell, I know I have been a disappointment to him…he has a long list of reasons why he doesn't want a relationship with me, but I'm not getting any younger and what's the point of keeping this up? I think we should both man up and let go of the past crap. Look, if anyone can get my son and me to start talking again, it's you."

"Well, I can try," I agree nervously. "My first suggestion will be that you not call him asshole."

"See, what did I tell you!"

.

To say that Edward doesn't take the news well would be an understatement.

"No fucking way."

"But Edward…"

"No fucking way, Bella."

He bursts out of bed and pulls on his jeans.

"I'm going to the studio."

I listen to the stomping of his footsteps all the way downstairs.

I fall back against the pillows and run my hand through my hair. I am stunned at how strong his reaction is considering I just completed what, in my opinion, was a spectacular late afternoon blow job. Just a moment ago he was moaning how I was _the best_ as he ran this fingers through my hair and watched my every move, and now he is being his hot-headed temperamental artist self.

I probably shouldn't care so much if he mends fences with his dad, but I can't shake the feeling of what I wouldn't give to be able to have either of my parents back in my life. I roll over on my stomach and prop myself up on my elbows as I look out at the view. I realize that my curiosity is really piqued to meet the man that Edward is genetically linked to.

Deciding that I'm not giving up this easily, I take my time pulling on my clothes as I strategize what I'll say to him. At least by the time I amble down to his sanctuary he'll have had time to calm down. I make a pit stop in the kitchen for two bottles of beer before I slowly cross the front garden.

The energy of the studio reminds me of my first dramatic visit there, and the memory makes me nervous. The music is pounding against the walls. As I step towards the open doorway I can see him furiously working. When he violently drags the brush across the white surface, I see the muscles flex angrily across his naked back. I'm not even sure if he is painting the canvas or trying to cover up his demons with the dark streaks from the paintbrush. Perhaps both.

The way the light skims over him I can see a fine film of sweat across his back. Despite his obvious tension, he moves with the grace of a slithering cobra, striking his target over and over. Even when he is living up to his father's nickname for him-_asshole_-he is so damn hot.

I experiment. I take several steps inside so I am within the perimeter of his vision. I wait silently. I know he senses me, and his next stroke across the canvas is slower, less brutal. He pauses, sighing, puts the brush in the water jar and picks up the remote to turn the music down until it is but a whisper in the background.

I walk over and hand him the beer. We both take a swig, and he looks at me carefully.

"The last girl I took to lunch with my dad he ended up marrying."

My mouth falls open. None of my strategies were anticipating that scenario.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, it happened so fast that my head is still spinning. I would never have brought her along, but he insisted that I bring a girl. She was one of the better looking art whores, and it's not that I was heartbroken or anything…but it was the damn principal of the matter, Bella."

"That is so fucked up."

"Yeah, their marriage lasted less than a year. She ran off with her personal trainer and still ended up with a million-dollar settlement. And I haven't talked to the fucker since."

"Where is she now?"

"I couldn't give a flying fuck. But if you think I'm taking you to meet him you have another thing coming."

Now I'm angry too. "What? Do I get no credit here-I'm suddenly in the same league as one of your vapid art whores?"

"Did he try to charm you on the phone? Did he call you beautiful and ask if you had a boyfriend?"

"So?"

"It's like throwing a sweet lamb into the hungry lion's den. The lamb doesn't stand a chance once she's under his spell."

_Did the blow job suck out his brains as well?_ I'm so mad now that everything has fiery red edges.

"So now I'm a stupid lamb? I am so weak-willed that any good looking man with money can win me over-no matter that I'm in love with you?"

"Why can't you just understand my side of this? Why are you being so damn difficult?"

"So now I'm difficult because I don't want to be categorized as having the brains and fortitude of an art whore? Well, this stupid lamb, who I'll remind you is your girlfriend-which makes you a fucked up lion-has had enough of this conversation. "

I walk over and set my beer down on the desk.

"I know I said I would stay for dinner, but I have a _to do_ list at home two pages long and you need to paint and blow off some steam so you can come to your senses. I'll call you in the morning and hopefully you will remember then who you are speaking to."

"Fine." He barks angrily.

"Yeah, fucking fine."

I give him a final dirty look and then storm out the door. The music blasts out the studio right on my tail. If I'm not mistaken it's even louder than before.

_Asshole._

Throwing my shit in the overnight bag, I get to my car in record time. I'm all the way through the canyon and about to get on the freeway when my phone rings. Of course it's him.

"I'm sorry, Bella."

"You should be."

"I never want you to think that I compare you in any way to those girls. I was just so pissed off about my dad-he brings out the worst in me."

"I know that. I was just hoping that maybe there could be some type of healing between you two. Would it be that hard to try a little?"

There is a long pause, and for a moment I wonder if we have been disconnected. He finally clears his throat and responds.

"Look, as much as I despise the man, I also know I owe him everything. He's the one that told you about Aunt Ann, which brought you to Ojai. In a crazy way he's responsible for getting us together. For that alone I should probably meet him-at least this once."

"He knows he's not been a good dad, Edward. He really just wants another chance."

"But, Bella…I'll go postal if I have to watch him hitting on you."

"Well, I get that. But I'm in love with you, Edward. Madly, rabidly, ferociously in love with you, and no one fucks with that. If he tries to I will set him straight immediately. And if he doesn't correct himself, we're out of there. Done.

He is silent.

"Do you understand me, Edward?"

"Sorry, I got distracted by the ferocious part. That put all kinds of pictures in my head…you can imagine. Can you come back here now?"

"No, I can't come back. I have to be at work early tomorrow, and it will be easier from my place. We have less than a week until we leave for Barcelona so I've got to stay focused."

He sighs long and deep. "Okay, okay, but you know, girlfriend, that you are the lion in this relationship. Just saying…"

"I love you lamby."

"Love you too, my ferocious pussycat."

.

When we pull up to the valet at the Beverly Hills Hotel that Saturday to meet his dad in the Polo Lounge, Edward Jr. is benefitting from some extra anti-anxiety medication. I am not surprised to see that his father is gorgeous. He is older and more weathered than Edward, but they have the same eyes, height and wicked smile. And although Edward Sr. does initially pull out all the stops and flirt with me shamelessly, I give a little speech about how thrilled I am to meet him since his son is the love of my life…the man my sun rises and sets on…the cream in my coffee, the fuel for my fire. When we are settled in our prime booth location, Edward Sr. begins to test the waters with Edward.

"So, this art thing seems to be working out for you, son."

"Art thing? Yes, my _art thing_ is working out quite well, thanks for noticing."

"Well, my girl Bella sent me a copy of the book you did together. I was impressed-that was a lot of work you've done. And you got that done in between all of your partying and girlfriends."

I give Sr. a harsh look and subtly shake my head. We aren't going to last here much longer if he doesn't stop provoking him.

"Your girl? She's _my girl_, dad, and we're keeping it that way." Edward is fuming.

"And he doesn't party like that anymore," I throw in for good measure.

"No, I don't," Edward confirms.

"So _your Bella_ has straightened you out," he comments. "I'm impressed. You are damn smarter than me in many ways Edward-you always have been. Looks like you've figured out how to keep a good woman. I threw all my charm at your girl before I understood she was yours, and she clearly only has eyes for you."

"He's so good to me, Mr. Masen. You would be proud if you knew how he takes care of me."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it, Bella, because I can see that this is the real deal with you two."

Edward smiles and pulls me close.

"Okay then," he booms after the waiter presents our drinks. "I'm putting in my request early. I want a granddaughter-my own little princess-and I don't want to hear a damn thing from you two when I buy her the moon."

My hand never leaves Edward's, even when the food is served, and I have to eat with my left hand. I am relieved to see the conversation shift when Edward Sr. wants to hear all about Edward's work in the Barcelona show and our plans for the trip. He even recommends his favorite restaurant in Barcelona, Cinc Sentits, and insists that we go as his guests. By the time we say our goodbyes, Mr. Masen, with only the slightest shade of jealousy, actually looks happy for his son. I get into the car knowing that the bridge connecting their lives again has started to be rebuilt. Phase one of my job is done.

What I don't anticipate is how my show of loyalty and total devotion will affect Edward. When we return to Malibu he lures me up to the bedroom and makes love to me like Romeo on his wedding night. The best part is that we don't have to fear the light of dawn like the star-crossed lovers did. The morning belongs to us too.

.

A few days later I flip through the _Skymall _magazine marveling at the garden gnomes, vibrators posing as back massagers, and motivational posters. I note that the stewardess serving drinks is still a few rows away. I turn towards Edward.

"If you loved me, truly loved me, you would buy me one of these."

I point to the snuggie body blanket with arms that has pockets for your remote controls.

"Sorry, honey. Even my love has its limits. If you ever wear that I will never be able to fuck you again."

Not willing to risk that possibility I quickly tuck the magazine back in the seat pocket.

"How much longer until we land in Barcelona?"

"Just thirty minutes less than last time you asked. So that makes it fifteen more hours."

"All right smarty pants."

I look out the window and then turn back towards him.

"Hey, can I ask you something about your dad?"

He nods and shrugs his shoulders.

"Why did your parents get divorced?"

"Nothing too clever…the obvious reason."

"He screwed around?"

"Yeah, the first time it was with some actress on one of his shows…a one night stand. After much drama my mom forgave him but made it clear that if it ever happened again there were no second chances."

"How soon was the next time?"

"I think a couple of years later. Another actress. It really broke her heart. Even though the split was immediate and final, I could tell she still cared about him until the day she died. She may have even still loved him. But she couldn't take the betrayal."

"I understand," I say softly, thinking about what it must be to love someone that much and suffer such disappointment.

"The worst part of it all is that he also loved her like crazy and never got over it. Every once in a while he would go on a bender, call her, and beg for her to take him back."

"That's so sad."

"Yeah. At the wake he told me that his greatest regret in life was losing her. She was the best thing that ever happened to him and he didn't deserve her."

"What did you say?"

"I agreed with him." He shifts in his seat so he's almost facing me. "You know, Bella, he gave me advice when you got up to use the restroom at the Polo Lounge."

"Yes, what was that?"

"He told me that you were a keeper…that you reminded him a lot of my mom. And that if I didn't hold onto you with everything I had that I was an asshole."

I smile secretly realizing that Ed Sr. got the word _asshole_ into the conversation after all."

"Well, that's some advice."

"Certainly the best advice he's ever given me. Not that he would be able to tell me how to hold onto you. His track record in that area is abysmal."

"Maybe that's why he is the perfect person to give you that advice. He knows what the alternative means. I think that is part of the reason he wanted to see you and start trying to rebuild a relationship with you. He is at that point in life where you get reflective and think about what you have done with your past, and what you want your possibly short future to be."

As I lean closer and smile sweetly at him, I continue. "I think he wants to get to know his son as a man. And not just a man, but a very fine man."

"Who has a very fine woman."

I weave my fingers into his and squeeze. He lifts our hands up and kisses mine gently.

I nod toward the flight attendant serving beverages who is now just one aisle away.

"And this very fine woman would like a very fine drink."

"I think that can be arranged," he responds, and when he flashes his big smile at the stewardess you can almost hear her panties combust. I laugh and settle back in my seat, more than ready to watch the show.

.

By the time we disembark in Barcelona I feel like I've lived an entire life on that plane. It's early morning but it feels like it should be night. Luckily we get through customs quickly, grab our bags, and get a taxi to take us to our hotel.

The Hotel Neri is housed in a gothic palace tucked on a smaller street near the cathedral. With its velvet drapes and softly lit hallways it has the reputation of being one of the most romantic places in the city. Yet when we go to check in we are reminded of our ruse as we are booked in separate rooms. Edward looks pissed off, which confuses the hotel clerk, but in an effort to lighten his mood she makes some elaborate adjustments on the computer so that we can at least be on the same floor.

"We have a lot of work to do, and we need to be close to each other," he huffs. I smile and remain silent, accepting my room key with a nod.

"Two rooms…what a waste of money," I comment as we get into the tiny elevator. "When I agreed to pretend we aren't involved I wasn't thinking that it would mean separate rooms."

"Yeah, it was your bad idea. Let's go cancel one of them now." He starts pressing the elevator button to go back down.

"No, Edward, that would make things even more obvious, and you know this wasn't my idea. I'll just leave my stuff in my room and mess up the sheets so it looks like I'm there in case the staff is nosey for some reason. Anyway, it may be good to have back up in case I get mad at you and want my own place."

He raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms over his chest. "I see, so now you need back-up."

"Don't get fussy on me. I was joking."

As it is, once we throw our bags down the exhaustion of jet lag hits us. We end up curled up together, taking a long nap on Edward's big bed in his ultra-contemporary fancy-pants suite. We wake up in the late afternoon disoriented, but after a shower and unpacking we are ready to go explore. After all, we will mainly be doing work obligations for the museum the rest of the trip so this is our time to play before our schedule is filled.

My first impression of Barcelona is that it is a captivating city with a youthful, modern energy. Strolling down Les Ramblas, a popular walking street full of every type of eccentric character, we see street musicians and performers along side throngs of tourists and locals. We stop at a Café de l'Opera, a 19th century Parisian-style café with murals and decorative flourishes that take you back in time. After a light snack Edward orders an expresso, and I get their famous hot chocolate that is like a decadent warm liquid pudding…ambrosia for the gods.

Next we wander through the Barri Gotic quarter and visit the Catedral, a 14th century cathedral designed in the Catalan gothic style. It is quiet and dimly lit inside, and the otherworldly ambiance makes me think of my parents. I purchase three red glass votives from the front and light a candle for my dad and one for my mom, hoping that I'll see her again one day. Edward lights one for his mom, and before we leave I say a silent prayer as he gently holds my hand.

Our final sightseeing stop for the day is at the Museu Picasso, which was created inside five medieval mansions that are linked together. Although Picasso spent much of his life in France, he was born and raised in Spain, and Barcelona was one of his favorite places in his homeland. Naturally, the Spaniards are very proud that one of their own grew up to be the greatest painter in modern history, and this museum celebrates that fact.

The exhibit hall is very unique in that it houses a huge collection of his early works, including paintings that he did at the age of thirteen. There are also wonderful drawings he rendered of street scenes around Barcelona, and of course, major works created throughout his long prolific life.

We spend a long time wandering through the exhibits. I am intrigued by the offerings from his blue period, which took place while he was living in Barcelona. I can tell that Edward is incredibly excited and energized by our visit.

"I've also been to the Picasso museum in Paris which has many of his famous paintings, but this museum is really unique…there's nothing quite like it," he says enthusiastically. "You truly get a sense of how the young protégé became the greatest artist of his time."

"It does really show his evolution wonderfully," I agree.

"Can you believe that he saved all of this stuff, even from when he was a boy, and now it is all sitting for everyone to enjoy in an elegant museum? It's amazing."

"I bet you will one day have your own museum full of all of your art, including your childhood scribblings."

I see his eyes spark with desire. "Well, then it's a good thing that Mom saved all that stuff." He laughs awkwardly as if he is embarrassed to hope for such a thing, but I can see the wheels turning in his brilliant head.

For dinner we end up at a tapas restaurant the concierge recommended where we get smaller tastes of various Spanish favorites: shrimp fritters, ceviche, stuffed tomatoes, Spanish ham on foie toast, and artichoke rice cakes with manchego cheese. I am into my second glass of vino rojo when the jet lag hits me again. Edward jokes with me to try to keep me awake, until he gives up and practically has to carry me back to the hotel. I don't even remember him getting me into the bed.

.

Hours later when I open my eyes the room is dark except for the reflection of the outside streetlights giving the sheer curtains on the tall windows a silver glow. It takes a long moment for me to realize where I am and that Edward isn't next to me. In his place his are ripples of sheets that have been peeled back. I have kicked off the sheets as well as I am nude and lying on my side.

As my eyes adjust, I realize that I can hear him, his breath-deep breaths-and I sense movement. As my vision expands I see that Edward is sitting in the armchair next to our bed, and the site of him makes me instantly aroused.

Gloriously naked, his legs spread and his head leaning against the back of the chair, he is slowly stroking himself as he watches me. It is incredibly erotic, and all of my instincts of wanting him overwhelm me.

When our eyes meet he moans, and his free hand reaches down and cups his balls.

I instinctively lick my lips as I watch his hands move over what's mine. His arousal looks so commanding from this angle, and I want him very badly. I look up at him, my expression burning.

"Do you mind if I watch?" I whisper in my sleepy voice.

"You want to watch what you do to me?" He gives me a wicked look as his hips push forward.

I nod and run my hand over my breasts circling my nipples. His lips part as he observes me.

"You were moaning in your sleep, baby. You got me so worked up, and I didn't want to wake you up so I came over here and started to imagine what you were dreaming about."

"What did you imagine?" I slip one hand between my legs and slowly stroke myself. I notice his hand tighten over his erection.

"Remember that night in the O'Keefe museum? We got so turned on by the art, until I had you up against the wall of that room with my cock inside of you. You wanted me so much that night that it made me crazy."

"Oh I remember…are you kidding? I will never forget how you ravaged me…you were so damn hot."

His eyes roll back as he shudders with the memory. It takes him a moment to start speaking again.

"So I started imaging us in the room near the back of the Picasso museum. Do you remember, the one with the double wide bench?"

"The one upholstered in leather where we sat for a while?"

"Yes, I was picturing you naked and spread out on that bench and I'm licking you between your legs."

I moan and stroke further into my wetness. "You really like going down on me, don't you? I mean, you don't just do it to satisfy me, you get off on it."

"You have no idea how much I love it," he groans as we watches me hungrily.

"So did you fuck me too? I mean in the Picasso museum?"

He gives me a naughty smile. "Yes, I fucked you but we hadn't finished yet. You woke up and interrupted my fantasy."

I laugh quietly. "Yes, I'm such a distraction."

"What were you dreaming that made you thrash around and moan?" I can see from the steamy look in his eyes that he has to know that he owns me in sleep too.

I pause pulling the memory out of the folds of my mind. "I dreamt that we were in a room with dark burgundy walls and burning candles everywhere. There was no ceiling, just the night sky filled with stars, and I was on this huge bed crouched low on all fours, panting and purring like a wild animal."

He leans forward in his chair, and I can see the tension in his whole body. I am beside myself over the way his fist moves with purpose over his hardness. "What was I doing?"

I roll over, get up on all fours, and lean down. My sensitive nipples graze the soft white sheets, and I arch my back so that my ass is higher. I move my fingers back to where I am wet. "You were taking me from behind."

I love the anticipation building as he rises off the chair and approaches the bed. The testosterone in the air intoxicates me. I feel the bed sag and the heat from his thighs warming mine before his strong hands settle on my hips. He pushes into me slowly, so slowly, until I am beyond full of him.

"Bella," he gasps as he slowly pulls out again.

"Yes, just like my dream…you feel so good." I groan as he pushes back inside, and I grind against him. "Is this better than_ your_ fantasy?"

"There's no _better _with you baby…cause it's all perfect…._every_" -he pushes into me hard-."_fucking_…" -I brace myself from falling forward as his movements become more forceful- "…_time_."

His heat is building inside me, and he grunts before we lose ourselves in the moment. He is all hardness and passion, strength and command. I submit again and again as my stroking fingers close the circle of pleasure. When we come, there is no breath, no words, just the explosion of our bodies combusting before he falls over me.

A while later we are spooning, his arms wrapped tightly around me. He kisses my neck and shoulders reverently, and my heart is so full as I can feel the satisfaction and total contentment oozing out of him. A strange sense of completion comes over me when I realize that no one ever has, or ever will, do to him what I do.

I sigh, and feeling the passion of Barcelona, I'm suddenly glad for all the years I studied Spanish as I search though my mind for the words I'm inspired to say.

"Edward, _tu eres el hombre de mis sueños_."

His lips graze my ear as he pulls me closer.

"_Tu también, eres la mujer de mis sueños. Te quiero, mi amor_," he whispers before we drift off into a beautiful, deep sleep.

.

.

* * *

**Are we enjoying Barcelona? I love hearing from you…**

_Translation of Spanish: "Edward, you are the man of my dreams."_

_He replies: You as well, you are the woman of my dreams, I love you…my love._

**PLEASE VOTE! Work of Art made it to the final round (top 5 in each category) in the Avante Garde Awards nominated for Must Read Story and Best New Author: http:/twilightfb-awards (dot) blogspot (dot) com** (to link remove spaces and add dots) Support the writers by voting for your favorites.

_See you Wednesday for the teaser on the forum and next Saturday with the update!_


	48. Chapter 48  Beautiful Barcelona

_Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art._

_A big thanks to my beta TwilightZoner and pre-readers CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen who turned this around so quickly despite it being the busiest time of the year._

**Tomorrow is the last day to vote in the Avante Garde Awards. WofA is nominated for ****Must Read Story**** and ****Best New Author****: http:/twilightfb-awards (dot) blogspot (dot) com** (to link remove spaces and add dots) Please support the writers by voting for your favorites.

_Let's now take a break from the holiday madness and join Edward in Bella on a warm, beautiful day in Barcelona…_

* * *

.

**Work of Art / Chapter Forty-Eight / Beautiful Barcelona**

_"To be an artist is to believe in life." ~Henry Moore_

_.  
_

While sipping coffee from a delicate teacup, I shake my head with disbelief. We are taking breakfast on the rooftop terrace of our hotel in Barcelona like it's the most natural thing in the world. How did I go from a simple girl working in a gallery to a woman who jet-sets with an incredibly handsome, internationally-known artist? As I look over at Edward and watch him scan through his emails on his iPhone, I take a moment to feel grateful for all that I have.

He looks up at me and smiles that beautiful smile. "They want to have lunch with us at one. They'll pick us up in the lobby. And then they have interviews scheduled at the television station in the late afternoon."

I look at my watch. "Well, that leaves us free for a while. What do you feel like doing?" I pick up my guidebook and start flipping through it.

"Why don't we go over to see La Sagrada Familia? It's probably less crowded this early in the day."

I am a huge fan of Gaudi's architecture, so I nod my head happily. "That's on my list of what I have to do while I'm here."

He reaches for my hand under the table and squeezes it. "Well, let's do it then, baby." He signs the check and we head on our way.

As the cab pulls up to the unconventional and spectacular cathedral, I am struck by the enormity of the project Gaudi devoted the last part of his life to. The masterpiece embodies the essence of Gaudi's style which has been described as Art Nouveau gone wild.

We wander around the outside first, and Edward takes lots of pictures. The structure is a bizarre wonder comprised of a collection of towers with every surface covered with unusual stone carvings. The overall effect is something fantastical and much more organic than your typical cathedral. A deeply religious man, Gaudi was greatly influenced by nature, and he worked plenty of organic symbolism into the design.

Once inside, we separate as we each focus on different aspects of the interior, which is still under construction. At one point I go to look for Edward to show him how the stained glass windows paint the white interior with brilliant colors, and I find him standing in front of the altar with tears in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" I ask gently. I can't tell if he is sad or just overwhelmed.

"I'm great," he responds, taking a deep breath and pulling me into his arms. "I'm just so moved by all of this built from one man's passion that was inspired by his faith. It's just incredible."

"Can I tell you that when I see you like this it makes me fall in love with you even more?"

He squeezes me tightly.

"Oh, Bella. I'm so glad that we can experience this together."

I nuzzle into his chest, but he reaches down and tips my chin up so I'm facing him.

"Bella, when we get married, can we get married here? It would mean so much to me."

"When we get married? It sounds like you have our life all planned out."

"Well, of course we're going to get married. Why wouldn't we? You're the one, Bella…the woman I want to spend my life with."

He looks nervous suddenly. "Don't you feel the same about me?"

"You know I do, my love. All right, we can get married here. That's a good idea anyway…it will keep it really intimate. After all, how many people would be able to come all the way to Spain?"

He laughs. "Yeah, that's one way of keeping the guest list short."

"But keep a back-up plan in mind, Edward. They may not allow weddings in here."

"Oh, I've got all kinds of tricks up my sleeve woman. I'll figure out a way."

I smile as we start heading towards the exit. I don't doubt for a minute that my man will figure out a way to get exactly what he wants.

.

We get back to the hotel just in time to meet the group from the museum. The first to greet us is a dark haired beauty, Paloma, who is the head of PR. We get that European double-cheek kiss from her that never seemed to catch on in the States. I watch her carefully as frankly, I don't like her so close to Edward. Thankfully, the two handsome men, Andres and Diego, shake our hands instead of doing the kiss thing. Diego is the Senior Curator for the museum and Andres is the Event Coordinator. _Damn is everyone so good looking in Spain?_

We pile into their car and they take us to Toc, a minimalist restaurant in the Eixample district. We let Diego order for us, since he seems to have a strong point of view about everything, and they put a platter in front of me that has far more plate showing than food. There is a burgundy something whipped beyond recognition and formed in the shape of a miniature Matterhorn with two green sprigs of something rising out of its center. Then there are three thin strips of beef curled tightly, an artichoke bottom stuffed with something crab-like, and a few thin twigs of vegetables forming an abstract sculpture. The food is so artfully presented that you feel bad eating it and messing up the masterpiece.

Everyone drinks wine and talks passionately, asking Edward about his ideas and his inspiration. He handles them like a pro. However, Paloma, who sits to my right, is focused on me throughout lunch, and she starts a conversation with me on the side. I have to give her credit-paying attention to me instead of Edward is a wise strategy. If she underplays any attraction for the artist, we will be less likely to notice when she goes in for the Edward kill. _Not likely sister…I'm on to you._

But despite all that, I have to admit that I find Paloma intriguing. She speaks with great passion and has magnificient big brown eyes framed with eyelashes so thick they made her eyes look like star bursts. Her killer cheekbones and full lips are hard not to focus on when she is calling me _Belllll-aaaaaa_. She has a tiny waist, and although her legs are a bit thick, they are perfectly toned and it doesn't prevent her from wearing a very short Missoni knit dress that clings to every curve.

She keeps stroking my arm while she talks to me, and every time we laugh Edward looks over to see what the hell is going on. Looks like I have a new best friend.

Finally Paloma turns her attention to Edward.

"Are you married Edward?' she asks unabashedly.

"Not yet, but I have a girlfriend I'm serious about."

"Lucky girl," she purrs.

"It's too bad you couldn't bring her along on this trip," replies Diego. "I would like to see the woman who captured the artist's heart."

I look over nervously, wondering how he will respond.

"Yes, she is extraordinary, and Barcelona is the perfect place for us to visit," Edward replies evasively.

_Clever man_

By the time lunch is over, I can tell the group is pleased with us. It's one thing to correspond and plan an event, but there is nothing like sitting down over a meal to really understand who you're dealing with.

Paloma goes over this afternoon's interview schedule once more, and Andres goes over details for the intimate dinner tonight with the chief benefactors for the museum.

On the way out the door, Edward asks how close Gaudi's landmark apartment Casa Mila is to the restaurant, and they offer to drop us off so we can tour it before returning to the hotel to rest for the interviews.

Still struggling with jet lag, I am starting to fade a bit, but when we get to Casa Mila I am instantly inspired by the unconventional home. Gaudi must have been supremely confident to not just think of such imaginative designs, but he managed to convince clients to pay to build something so exotic. The rooms have wavy walls that curve into ceilings full of mosaics and unusual light fixtures. Every place you turn there is a unique design element, an irregularly shaped door and freeform door handle. The entire place is dreamlike, full of color and light as if you have stepped inside a magnificent sculpture.

I can see it in Edward's excited eyes…he would give anything to be able to live in a place like this. He buys a couple of books from the gift shop before we head out to the boulevard.

"Can we walk back?" he asks enthusiastically. "I love just walking through the streets and noticing all the little things."

"Little things?"

He starts pointing out different people and objects. "Yeah, see the kids over there tumbling out of the school gate, and how about that old lady with the crazy hat shopping for produce?"

In the distance I see the corner market. The old woman's hat has several colorful feathers rising out of the brim.

"Do you think she will buy that mango she is holding or just keep fondling it?" he asks playfully.

_Fondling._ I laugh at the peek into Edward's mind.

"Look at the art deco shape of that mailbox," I point out.

He smiles realizing that I'm getting into it.

"And what about the colors of that woman's scarf?" The swath of silk is fushia and lime green over her white dress. "I want to paint with those colors when we get back to the hotel."

I remember that he packed some art supplies. He must have known he would be inspired. As we stroll along the next block we notice a couple in conversation up ahead.

"Do you think that man in the orange shirt is in love with the woman he is talking to?" Edward asks.

I look at where he is pointing and watch them for a moment.

"No, I don't."

"Because?"

"He keeps looking away while she's talking."

"Uh huh. But she loves him don't you think?"

I nod sadly as we move past them. He chats like this the whole long walk back to the hotel, which helps distract me from the fact that it is damn hot and we are getting cooked alive. By the time we get up to his room I am flushed from the heat. Thank God I wore sunscreen today or this red would be a sunburn instead of the result of getting too hot.

When Edward looks at me he smiles. "Oh baby, you need to cool off, maybe a cold shower? No wait, I have an idea…I'll be right back okay?"

I nod, turn up the fan and sink into the big armchair. A few minutes later Edward returns with two tall glasses of ice water. He hands me one and sets the other on the desk before looking in his suitcase for something.

I run the chilled glass across my forehead and take several long sips, feeling it cascade down my fiery throat. He turns back toward me, and he has a wide paintbrush in his hand. He considers me carefully, and I am taken by the mysterious look in his eyes.

"I'm going to cool you off, baby. Take off your clothes and lay on the bed."

_Okay, then_…I smile inwardly. _I like a man with a plan._

Curious, I slide out of my clothes without questioning him, pull back the bedspread and lay down on the cool sheets. I am damp with perspiration and becoming wet with arousal, and he hasn't even touched me yet. As I silently wait he takes off his shirt, shoes, and socks and then walks to the side of the bed, holding his glass of ice water and the paintbrush.

He dips the brush in the ice water then reaches over and strokes my neck. I gasp and dig my fingers into the sheets. The soft bristles tickle and the coldness is shocking, but it feels so good. Next he paints my face, slowly brushing over my eyelids and across my lips. He fills the brush again as he runs along my hairline with the excess water seeping into my hair.

I look up at him and he smiles. "Keep your eyes closed, love…just focus on how it feels."

With my eyes shut I am overcome with anticipation as to what part of my skin will feel the cool lick of the paintbrush next. I hear the clink of the metal part of the brush hit the ice cubes, and then there is a pause. My shoulders and arms are stroked slowly, and I gasp as he gently pulls my arm up and runs the brush along my underarms.

My nipples tighten, and my breathing is shallow and accelerating. But he continues to taunt me by working slowly. I am on the edge wondering where I will feel the next delicious stroke.

Next he spends a lot of time swirling over and under my breasts and my nipples grow even harder from the taunting chill. I desperately want to feel his wet mouth sucking and warming me. My breathing becomes ragged and stops altogether when he blows on my wet skin. I open my eyes for a moment to see the heated look in his eyes. He is enjoying this just as much as I am. I close my eyes again.

"Shall I keep going?" he whispers darkly.

I hear the rustle of his pants being removed.

"Yes," I moan as my legs instinctively pull apart.

He is a magician, drawing feelings out of me like a silk scarf that is endlessly pulled out of the black top hat.

The cold tongue of the brush runs along my belly, across my thighs and circles my knees before heading south down my calves. I almost leap off the bed when he strokes the soles of my feet and then between my toes.

"Edward!" I squeal.

But before I can regroup the brush is trailing up my inner thighs. _Hot damn._ Suddenly I can feel his heat and smell his scent. His breath is ragged too, and I sense that he is on the bed crouched over me. He lets the brush drip between my legs before the bristles caress me where his tongue wants to be.

I arch into the sensation, quivering and moaning for him. He is not done with this particular work of art. I need his brush painting me, and I will beg him for it if it comes to that. I hear the bristles slosh against the ice before he presses it against me, and I cry out for him.

"Please, please."

"Please what, Bella?" he says darkly. "Do you want more or less?"

My skin is the canvas of his imagination. I can feel his passion with every stroke.

"I want it all, Edward."

My hips are lifted and he is suddenly inside me. He is burning heat against my icy cold, but his forceful movements thaw me to my core.

"Yes," I pant.

There is another pause, and the brush circles my nipples again. My arms fan out and I realize that water has dripped all over the sheets. But before I can comment he thrusts again hard then pauses.

The brush makes one final pass swirling between my legs and words are falling out of me without reason, abstract art formed of my breath, cries and desire. I am splitting open, a Jackson Pollock dripping and splattered across the bed.

He is driving into me now, the brush abandoned, as I rake my shaking fingers across his back.

"Fuck me harder." The words sound savage and true as my lips release them.

He lifts my left leg up to his right shoulder and bears down deeper. Everything is simplified to the sensation of him powerfully filling me again and again. Now together we are a Motherwell: a thick black streak of passion against the bright white sheets.

I open my eyes to see his eyes shut, his face twisted in exquisite agony in those final moments before release. He is growling and sweaty, fiercely aroused, and he holds onto me protectively as I come undone. Only when I take my first breath and open my awestruck eyes does he join me.

..~*~..

I probably would have slept straight into the evening if Edward hadn't gently coaxed me awake from our nap. His hair is dancing a wild rumba and he looks bewildered but happily content as he drags me into the shower. We don't have a lot of time, so we get ready quickly before we head over to the television station.

We are quickly prepped and on camera so fast that I don't have time to get nervous. Luckily the reporter speaks perfect English, and she's charming so it goes smoothly. They will translate the interview before it airs in the morning. Most of the questions are for Edward, and I delight in watching him in action; he sounds smart and serious about his work but his charisma is undeniable. I am in awe to know this magnificent man was making love to me only hours ago and now the world is watching him.

Paloma then preps us before we are next interviewed by the lead Barcelona newspaper in the studio green room. The minute it finishes she whisks us back into the car to head to the book signing event. We are both surprised to see a long line of people waiting outside the bookstore. I smirk noting that most of the line consists of young eager women or gay men. Am I dating a rock star or an artist? Does Edward realize the effect he has on people? The whole experience of people fan-girling him over and over as we greet people and sign books is extraordinary. They cut off the event at eight p.m. so we can head to the museum dinner.

Just as Edward had his emotional moment at La Sagrada Familia, I have mine when we see the museum gallery full of Edward's work. My eyes filled with tears, and I look up at him trying to tell him everything without saying a word. I want to grab him and kiss him and tell him how incredibly proud I am of him. Instead I have to act cool and professional while my heart is ready to burst.

"Wow, Edward…just wow," I finally sigh.

I can tell he is moved too. His eyes move from painting to painting and then to me. "Yeah, wow."

We are ushered to the back gallery which ironically displays the repaired B E L L A paintings, a blatant reminder of how far we have come. And as introductions begin to the elite group of museum patrons and benefactors, we realize just how far all of this can go. Edward is famous and there are a lot of people that want a piece of his art or a piece of him. I am a bit startled as I realize the truth of this fact before we are led to our seats. They have set up a long dining table in the gallery that is elegantly set for our special catered dinner.

I am seated between Diego and a dashing Prince of some place I've never heard of, while Edward is sandwiched between Paloma and an elegant woman who seems to be one of the leaders of the group. After toasts are made, the six-course dinner begins, and I do my best to make conversation despite the fact that I can feel Edward's eyes watching me far too frequently. After a few rounds of wine, provocative Paloma doesn't help the situation by proclaiming rather loudly that she can't imagine how someone as stunning as me is single. I consider correcting her by alluding to a boyfriend, but the idea of yelling across the table horrifies me. With this pause I miss my moment. I can almost sense the testosterone peaking from several spots in the room, and I look over to see Edward silently fuming.

Before the evening is over I have an offer to go yachting with the prince and a young heir invites me to his estate just outside of town to watch a polo match and see his impressive art collection. I explain that we are only here for two more days and on a packed promotional schedule before Diego whisks me away to safety.

"I see I must keep an eye on you, Miss Bella," he says smiling. "A number of these men want to take you home, and we have an early morning of interviews."

"What about Edward?" I throw back at him. "It looks like some of these women want him for their very own play-toy."

"Yes, he could have his choice tonight, but he seems more interested in what is going on with you." He raises one eyebrow and waits for my reaction. "I wonder what his girlfriend would think about that." Spanish men are so direct, and Diego is clearly testing me.

"Oh really," I laugh trying to sound convincing. "He just knows that I'm out of my element and he's a bit protective of me. As for his girlfriend-she adores me."

"I'm sure she does." Diego rolls his eyes and decides not to press any further. Instead he takes me by the elbow and leads me over to a slight man in a dapper suit with a long ponytail. Evidently he is one of Spain's leading fashion designers and wants me to wear one of his creations for the opening tomorrow night.

Paloma joins in on the discussion, and we agree to attempt a fitting at our hotel after the morning interviews. I finally decide that I can't stand being separated from Edward anymore, and I go looking for him, but when I see he is trapped in the corner by two wealthy looking women I decide to let him fend for himself. Paloma brushes up next to me.

"It's been a long day, yes? You're looking tired all of a sudden, beautiful Bella." She sweeps her fingers along my cheek.

I think I'm getting used to her overly affectionate mannerisms so I don't even flinch, just nod my head. "I think I still have a bit of jet lag. Do you think we can go soon? We have an early morning."

"Of course, baby. She takes me by the elbow and leads me out of the room. I will get you a car."

"What about Edward?"

"I'll let him know you're headed back to the hotel."

_Fuck._ This stupid façade is going to really blow up in my face if I leave without Edward. But what can I say without revealing the farce?

As we wait for the car in the front of the museum, Paloma slowly rubs my back and my mind reels for how I can turn this around and go get Edward. The jet lag has slowed my normally quick responses.

"Do you want me to come back with you?"

I look at her confused-why would she think I need hand-holding?

"No, I'm fine…the driver knows where he is going and I'm going straight to my room."

She smiles warmly at me. "Yes, you go straight to bed when you get back, Bella. We have a big day tomorrow."

_Yes, Mom._ This woman seems to have no boundaries.

And then I hear a voice and it isn't happy.

"What the hell is going on?"

Paloma and I turn around, startled to see a very angry Edward just behind us.

Paloma speaks up immediately. "I'm sending Bella back to the hotel. Look how tired she is, Edward."

He stares at her hand still rubbing my back, and she immediately drops it.

I am silent because I have no idea as to what I can say in front of Paloma that will diffuse his anger.

"Don't worry, Edward, I will get you a separate car when you want to go," Paloma babbles while she tries to figure out why he is upset. Just then the car pulls up.

"I'm leaving too," he barks. As the driver opens up the door for me, Edward walks around to the other side and gets in the car. I shrug my shoulders at Paloma, and she does the double kiss thing and whispers "sorry" in my ear before I slide into the car.

We are two blocks along before I can't take the silence or suspense anymore. I turn towards him. He is starring straight ahead and the tension in his angular jaw could cut through glass.

"What?" I demand.

He slowly turns and looks at me with scary eyes and then slowly turns back.

Nothing. Two more blocks of silence

"Will you please just talk to me Edward? What are you so upset about?"

After a long moment he finally responds. "You know what I'm upset about."

"Well, I have an idea but why don't you tell me so I know if I have it right."

"Here, I'll count off why I'm mad." He holds up his hand and wiggles his index finger. "Number one, the Prince of _whatever the fuck_ practically ate you for dessert."

_Okay, here we go._

Another finger wiggles. "Number two, if that fucker Diego touches you one more time I'm going to break his fingers one by one."

_Yeah, the man is a bit touchy._

The next finger snaps forward. "You can only imagine how much I loved that Rico Suave waiter fawning over you. That wasn't an accident when he brushed against your breast when he served you your salad."

_Wow, stalker boyfriend didn't miss a detail tonight._

"And really Bella, did you have to talk to that collector guy so long? At that point I had to think you were trying to provoke me."

_And he doesn't even know about my invitation to the estate to watch the polo match._

He waves his whole hand theatrically. "And last but not least I find the Spanish chili pepper giving you a rubdown before you sneak out without me."

He folds her arms tightly over his chest and gives me a searing look.

"You know, none of that shit would have happened if everyone knew you were with me. This charade is complete bullshit, and I am done with it."

_Damn he is so fucking hot when he is mad._ I bite my lower lip and consider my response.

I lean in towards him and speak in a low voice. "Does this mean we are having angry sex when we get back to the hotel?"

I watch his fingers dig into the leather upholstery.

"Bella." His voice is dark and dangerous and it's making me wet.

"I didn't like the attention either, Edward. I hate this stupid situation too, and despite what you think, I really don't like those guys fawning over me. You are the only one I want fawning from."

I see his expression lighten slightly, very slightly.

I reach over and grab onto his thigh right before the car pulls up to the hotel. He doesn't appear to mind so I inch it along higher on his leg, squeezing along the way.

"Besides, do you think I liked all those women crowding around you imagining what they would like to do with you? You know now that we are discussing it, I'm realizing that I'm angry too."

"Don't start with me, Isabella. I am the one with the right to be angry here. I never wanted this fucking _professional_ arrangement."

"How angry are you?" My hand down slides towards his inner thighs.

He growls and his head falls back on the headrest. "Very angry."

He reaches over and presses my hand between his legs where his arousal is abundantly evident. My fingers tighten over him.

I smile and lean over and whisper in his ear. "So the idea of angry sex turns you on? I'll tell you what…I may not be cooperative, so you may need to spank me first."

His eyes flash with wicked delight and the corners of his mouth curl up just enough so that I know I've won this battle. I remove my hand right before the driver opens the door.

Edward places his hand on my ass and pushes. "Get out of the car, Ms. Swan. We have some business to attend to upstairs."

.

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**_Wishing all of you and your families the happiest of Holidays. Thank you for all the love and support you guys have given me on this amazing journey. Much love to you all. xoxo_**

_note: Pictures of La Sagrada Familia are on page 13 of the Forum. See you Wednesday for the teaser on the forum and next Saturday with the update._

http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034 Remove spaces and turn (dot) into .


	49. Chapter 49  Friends and Lovers

_Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art._

_Thank you to my beta TwilightZoner and pre-readers CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen_

_Many of you expressed excitement in your last review to read the lemon following the car ride at the end of the last chapter. As you will see, it's not the direction I went with this update but I promise to consider doing an outtake in the future._

_Okay…here we go!_

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**Work of Art / Chapter Forty-Nine / Friends and Lovers**

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Thank God for wake up calls. I vaguely remember setting the alarm on my phone, but I have no memory of turning it off. I turn towards Edward and he is still gone to the world. My beautiful man…he looks so content when he sleeps. I run my fingers along his shoulder and reach over and kiss his neck, working my way down to his chest.

"Wake up, handsome."

He barely stirs, so I close my mouth around his nipple and suck. He groans and the sheets rustle.

"Oh, baby."

Big brilliant green eyes are watching me. From the hardness growing against my thigh, I deduce that he likes what he sees.

"Good morning. Sorry, I shouldn't taunt you when we have to leave soon,"

He reaches over and places his hand gently on my ass. "How are you today? Are you sore?

"That was quite a naughty spanking, mister."

"Hmmm. Well you didn't seem to mind. I was going to stop at five and you begged for more." He gently rubs across my ass and almost looks guilty.

"Yeah, well I would have told you to stop, but I was really into it. I hate to encourage you by saying this, but you are incredibly hot when you are jealous."

"Hot headed maybe," he teases.

"No, the way you claimed me when you spanked me…that you would go after any man who touched me…and how you made me say that I belong to you. That was really hot."

"You do belong to me," he says darkly. "Do I need to spank you to remind you of that?"

"Very possibly," I taunt. "Even though I am sore today."

"Are you going to be able to sit down?"

"Yes, you really were more playful than harsh…so honestly it wasn't the spanking so much as round two where you bent me over the desk and pounded into me."

"Sorry, but when you waved your freshly-spanked pink ass in the air to taunt me I kind of lost control."

"All right, but let's give the booty a break today. I've got a long plane ride home tomorrow."

.

Right before we leave for the interviews I remember that I am going to have a fitting immediately following, so I drag my stuff to my room and throw things around to make it look lived in. Edward stays silent despite the fact that he isn't pleased. I think the only reason he doesn't fight me is because he doesn't want to have to deal with the fitting people and resulting chaos in his room.

Once we get to the museum, we are led into the gallery where the dinner was held last night, but now the table and chairs are replaced by a camera crew and lighting. The first reporter works with a rolling camera that moves from painting to painting as we talk about the work. Despite our early morning fog, our natural teasing banter surfaces and the reporter plays off it nicely. The next is a traditional sit down question session, and we hit our stride quickly, Edward has never been more charming. But by the third interview I can see Edward tiring of answering the same questions. Still he soldiers on, and I continue to playfully provoke him. When it is over I watch his sigh of relief, and it occurs to me that being famous is hard work.

..~*~..

"Do you want to help with the dress fitting?" I tease as we get back in the car.

"If it could be just you and me…although my strength is in taking off the dresses, not putting them on."

I laugh and quickly change the subject before Paloma joins us. We watch as she scans through messages on her Blackberry.

"Bueno, they are in your suite waiting for us, Bella. I am sure he will have something fabulous and sexy for you."

Edward gives me a dark look that could mean a lot of things. I choose to ignore him as I cross my legs and look out the window.

I had already brought my long navy dress from the wedding to wear, but if they want me to wear something for the home team I'm more than willing as long as I look good. Edward is going to be in a tux, and I need to look like I belong next to him. Even if no one here knows we are together-I do, and I want him to be proud that I'm his girl.

We part when the elevator stops at our floor. Paloma ushers me into the scene unfolding in my room. Antonio is yelling into his cell phone, but since he is speaking Spanish I don't know what he is saying. It can't be good. Two assistants are unwrapping the garments hanging on the metal rolling rack. As soon as Antonio sees us he shuts off his phone, coming over and embracing us warmly.

"Bella! Isn't this exciting? We brought some wonderful choices, yes?" He points to the rack where I can see several beautiful dresses now revealed.

"Yes, I'm very excited, thank you for doing this," I reply, wanting to appear grateful.

"Antonio, Yo Quiero este!" Paloma purrs, holding up a low cut fitted floral gown.

"I will take care of you later my love-this is Bella's moment."

"Well, try that one on first. I think it's gorgeous," she prompts me.

I look around. Are they expecting me to disrobe in front of everyone? But before I can say a thing, Paloma says, "Here let's go into the bedroom for privacy. I will help you get it on."

Paloma busies herself unzipping the gown while I disrobe. I lift up my arms to slide into the dress and she shakes her head. "No bra."

_Okay then._ This is awkward but it isn't the time to be modest, so I pull off my bra and lift my arms up. Her eyes linger on my breasts a little long for my taste. What is it with women always checking each other out? _Yes, they're real Ms. Paloma. _I shimmy the dress down my sides and she carefully zips it up. The floral design of the fabric has a soft watercolor feel of colors blending together, almost like an O'Keefe painting.

I turn towards the mirror. The dress fits like a second skin and my breasts are just barely covered. I'm not sure how comfortable I will be or how much Edward is going to appreciate me sharing my assets so blatantly. As we head out to the sitting room, I also realize that the narrow bottom makes it hard to walk.

"Guapa, Ole!...gorgeous!" exclaims Antonio. "Your body is so beautiful, perfect for this dress. He turns me around. "And your ass…lindo!…every man will want you!" I look in the mirror above the couch, and I have to agree that my sore ass looks pretty great.

"What do you think?" Paloma asks me.

"I love this dress, it's amazing, but I'm worried it is a bit sexy for me. I'm not used to showing off this much of my breasts."

"Those breasts should be shown off," she scoffs.

Antonio waves his hand and walks over to the rack. "I want to see this one on you." He pulls dress number two off the rack and caresses it lovingly.

We head back to the bedroom to try it on. This dress is fascinating in that it really is a tight fitted short sheath but attached to it is a long flowing skirt of floral chiffon, cascading from the waist. The fabric is sheer so you can see my long legs through the fabric. There is also a floral shawl of the same fabric that drapes low over my shoulder and then is sewn in at the bodice.

When I step towards Antonio, his face lights up. "Ahhhh…I love it!"

I twirl around dramatically. "I love it too."

"Yes, let me see. Come here, beautiful." I step close to him and he slowly rotates me, checking the fit. "Even the length is perfect!"

"It's just a bit tight here." I run my fingers along the top of the bodice where my breasts are threatening to spill out.

"Yes, we can let that out a bit." He waves for the assistant to come over so he can show her how it needs to be altered.

"We are doing hair and make-up at five p.m. Can it be done by then?" Paloma asks.

Antonio waves his hand again. "No problem. Five it is."

.

As soon as everyone leaves I head over to my real room. I find Edward lying across the bed fully dressed, and to my great surprise he is watching a Spanish soap opera. His drawing supplies and sketch pad are lying out on the table, but they look abandoned.

I join him on the bed and curl up under his arm.

"Didn't feel like drawing, baby? I see all your stuff out."

"No, I just wasn't feeling inspired. I'm a little tired." He points to the TV. "But this shit is great. You've got to watch this. I mean, I can't follow most of the dialogue, but the emotion, the passion, the crying—it's so entertaining."

I chuckle and then start watching.

"What's the guy and the blonde fighting about?"

"Hell, if I know. She keeps trying to seduce him but he's not into it. That's why half of her clothes are off."

"Well, it looks like she may have convinced him." He's got her up against the couch, and he's pulled her skirt up. "Uh oh, here comes the other woman!"

The scene has cut to a brunette who has her arms full, and she is fumbling with the door handle. "Don't do it, don't go in!" Edward yells at the TV.

But this is a soap opera, so of course the woman goes in, and when she sees her man with the blonde, the stuff falls out of her arms and the man turns and sees her standing there before she cries out and bolts out the door.

Suddenly we both tense up as it hits us both that this is a moment we have lived…our life as a Spanish soap opera. _How lovely._

Edward picks up the remote and turns it off.

We lay there another moment in silence. Finally I find my voice.

"Just for the record, I'm much better looking than that broad."

Edward lets out a long sigh like he has been holding his breath. He strokes my arm gently and cups my face with his hand.

"Well, we may have been a soap opera, but now I'd like to think we are more like a fairy tale."

"Does that mean we will have a happily ever after?"

"I hope so. I want to," he whispers before pulling me into a kiss.

..~*~..

We are hungry, so we grab an early lunch in the restaurant downstairs, and since we still have a few free hours, we take a cab to the Miro Museum. It's in a beautiful setting on a hill overlooking the city, and the modern architecture really sets off his work. I can feel Edward's mood lighten as we move from room to room taking in all the great paintings and sculptures. Miro's work always feels happy to me, so I'm glad we chose this as our outing.

We are heading out the door to return to the hotel when Paloma calls and asks if Edward would be willing to do another interview right before the show. It means he would need to leave by five-thirty, which is when I'll be getting ready. He rolls his eyes but agrees anyway. He knows that ultimately we are here to promote his work, and he is lucky that so many people want to talk to him.

We get back to the hotel just in time for me to secretly kiss Edward goodbye and take a shower in my pretend room before the glamour brigade shows up.

"Do you do this for all your museum guests?" I ask Paloma as the hair person flurries around me.

"No!" she scoffs.

"Frankly, artists and their teams usually are not the most attractive people…but you and Edward are young, fresh, and so beautiful that it becomes another story. It may sound ridiculous, but everyone is even more interested in the art and coming to the museum because you two represent the best of hip American glamour."

"Really?" My mouth is hanging open, I am so surprised by her declaration.

"Yes, my dear, and if you were a couple you would be the John Kennedy and Caroline Bessette of the art world."

"But hopefully not as tragic," I respond sadly.

She nods in agreement before answering her cell phone yet again.

I have to stay on the make-up artist not to be so heavy handed, but by the time he has finished and Paloma zips me up in my dress I feel like a princess on her way to the ball. We head down to the car and the driver takes off only a few minutes later than what we had intended. During the drive over, Paloma prompts me.

"You will be asked about the dress. Remember it's Antonio Avendano." She looks down and runs her fingers along the guest list. "I will introduce you to the most important people throughout the evening." She suddenly looks at me with a curious look. "You are flushed, Bella, do you feel okay?"

"Yes, I'm just nervous. This is a big night for Edward-I hope it goes well."

She smiles warmly. "You have nothing to be nervous about. You both charm everyone you meet and you look gorgeous."

"Thanks, but I'm not used to this kind of attention."

"Really?" Paloma responds. "I'm surprised to hear that. I would have imagined that you always get a lot of attention."

I sigh. That woman always knows just what to say.

When we arrive at the museum my door opens to an explosion of camera flashes. Even though Paloma has warned me about the photographers, I'm still stunned. She leads me inside, and when we get to the landing at the top of the stairs looking down over the main gallery I stop in my tracks. Paloma gets called away, and so I have a quiet moment to observe the spectacle before me.

The gallery is filled to the brim with men in tuxes and women in colorful evening gowns. I squint my eyes and the scene becomes a swirl of color and light, a living abstract painting. Part of me wants to stand back and observe, but a much bigger part of me is anxious to join Edward, so I open my eyes wide again.

Even though we have had indications of Edward's popularity in Spain, this is still a sight to behold. My eyes scan the crowd looking for him. I notice one particularly crowded part of the gallery, and sure enough, he is right in the middle of the action. I watch him talking and gesturing to a shorter man with a beard, but then as if there is a magnet drawing him to me, he lifts his face up and our eyes meet. Somehow he has sensed that I arrived. Without even looking back down he smiles at me, says something to the man, and starts walking my way.

I should head down the stairs towards him, but the sight of him in a tux, clean shaven and tan, takes my breath away and my knees grow weak. There is absolutely no doubt; he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. I finally gather my nerve, and gripping tight to the railing, start my descent.

He reaches the base of the stairs before I do and waits for me. The spark in his emerald eyes and seductive smile tell me that my look for the evening is a success. As I come to the last step, he takes my hand and pulls me towards him, kissing me lightly on the cheek.

"You're a vision, baby," he says softly as he takes it all in. "So beautiful."

"Thanks, you aren't half bad yourself." His tuxedo has a modern narrow cut, and he is wearing a collarless shirt that is already open at the neck.

He smiles. "I've never seen your hair up like that…it's glamorous. You look like a 1940's movie star."

Before I can respond we realize that we are being photographed, and so we turn around and pose for the cameras. There are several photographers, and they take a number of shots before Edward pulls me into the party. As he works his way to Diego and the group, the crowd parts for us and it feels like all eyes are on us.

"You are staying by my side tonight," he states authoritatively as he leans into me. "I will stay professional and not give up the game, but I need you with me, Bella."

I nod, feeling grateful-not just because he needs me but because he has learned how to simply tell me so. A waiter brings us tall flutes of champagne, but neither of us drink much, wanting to stay alert as we take it all in. People start swarming around us and he handles being the man of the evening surprisingly well, graciously accepting congratulations and compliments about his work.

A number of times, despite the fact that we are standing side by side, we end up in conversations with other people. I notice calculating women waiting for those moments, and they almost pounce on Edward. The first one, a tall black-haired beauty with too much make-up irritates me greatly as she keeps touching him while she talks to him. At one point she hands him a slip of paper and he smiles and sticks it in his pocket. I resist the temptation to bitch-slap her. I do have to remind myself, after all, that no one knows I am his woman.

But after the fifth round of Spanish hotties slipping him business cards and small folded pieces of paper, I lose my cool and turn to him as he tucks the latest scrap away.

I look down as he pulls his hand back out of his pocket. "Are you starting a collection?"

He smirks. "Jealous much?"

"I guess tonight it's my turn. So what are you going to do about it?"

He tips his head sideways and smiles before he decides. "Open your little purse," he says mysteriously as he points to my beaded clutch.

I purse my lips and snap it open. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wad of phone numbers, shoves it in my bag, and then snaps it shut.

"Why did you do that?" I ask bewildered. "Do you expect me to start the Edward Masen fan club? 'Cause it ain't 'gonna happen, buddy."

"No, not the fan club," he jokes. "Those are for _your _collection." He smiles mischievously. "See, when you get bored with me and start to lose interest, you can pull out that pile and be reminded that some people still think I'm _muy caliente_."

For a flash I am reminded of my early images of him when he was such a player-surrounded by beautiful women and art whores everywhere he went.

"Hmmm, well I can safely say that I will never need to be reminded how hot you are. But thanks for the thought."

"Anytime, baby."

.

As much as I don't want to leave his side, near the end of the reception I need to go to the restroom, so I make my way through the crowd. We still have the dinner ahead of us, and all I really want is to get my man back to the hotel and peel him out of his tuxedo.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I head back when I see Edward talking to an older gentleman. Watching him subtlety fend off the aggressive senoritas is wearing me out. But I am still about twenty feet away when I see Paloma dart over to him, whisper something in his ear, and drag him towards the back of the room before pulling him inside a doorway.

_Oh no she didn't…I'm going to have to take that bitch down._

I surge towards them as fast as my high heel sandals will allow. The entire way I am imagining what I am going to do to her. Shall I pull out her gorgeous mane of hair a chunk at a time, or whip off my sandal and stab her repeatedly with my spike heel? _Death by Manolo_s the papers would say. I can't believe the bitch pretended to be my best friend while ignoring him, all the time scheming as to how she would conquer Edward. _Not gonna happen while I'm around. _She has no idea who she's dealing with.

Logically I know that Paloma thinks that Edward and I aren't involved. But she also knows he has a girlfriend he is serious about, and there is something creepy about the fact that she hasn't shown this kind of interest in him until I disappear. It feels very underhanded.

But just before I storm through the door I stop dead in my tracks. There is something about the way she has him pressed against the counter in the far corner of this room that makes me immobile. I feel a wave of nausea as I realize that I have to handle this carefully, since we are in the middle of his big show.

My eyes dart quickly around the room that appears to be a type of pantry or event kitchen. There is another open door much closer to where they are standing. I tiptoe down the hallway and pause just outside it.

Her voice is raspy, wine soaked and brash.

"Do you like me, Edward? She runs her hands across his lapels."

I am viewing them in profile, but I can see him lift his hands to her shoulders and gently push her back.

"Sure, Paloma, you're really great. But you know, I think you've had a bit too much wine. Let me get you some coffee."

"I'm fine," she huffs. But I need you do something for me. I've been good to you, haven't I, baby?"

I notice his whole body stiffen. "I thought you said you needed to talk to me because there was a problem. What do you need me to do?" he asks warily, as if he is more afraid of the answer than I am.

"Edwardo, I need your help getting Bella." Her words are a bit slurred.

_Okay, not expecting that. _I slam my hand over my mouth to muffle my gasp. I already had one foot in the door, and now I pull it back to stabilize myself from falling over.

"Help getting Bella?"

"Yes, into my bed."

"Your bed? You want to sleep with Bella?" I almost don't recognize his voice it is so layered with disbelief.

He is stunned by this turn of events, and Paloma is losing her patience.

"Are you dense, man? I want to fuck her. I want to lick her all over until she is screaming with delight. I got to see her breasts today and it was sweet torture-more than I could take. I could barely keep from touching them…kissing them…" She stops to take a deep breath, and Edward folds his arms across his chest.

Oh good God, the pictures flying through my head are class A girl porn. So that's why she looked at my breasts like that during the dress fitting. Her look wasn't comparison but sheer hunger. Pieces of the puzzle are falling into place, the stroking, the back rubbing, the whispering into my ear. She must have wanted me all along…_I am so damn slow sometimes_. Hot tamale Paloma was hot for me. In another place or time that may have actually turned me on a little, but certainly not now with Edward's agitation growing.

Paloma is very animated now, her hands gesturing wildly. "She is so damn delicious. I must have her. You know her well, baby-you can tell me the best way to seduce her."

"Ah, I'm afraid I can't help you with that." His voice is very tense and edged with anger.

"Why not? I don't care if she isn't gay. I think straight women are a challenge. And once she gets a taste of me she isn't going back."

She pauses and considers him. "If you help me, I'll let you watch. Are you into her too? I might even let you play as well. I don't usually do men, but you're hot."

_She did not just ask him that. I don't think so, girlfriend, we don't share. Come on Edward…tell her…_

There is a moment while he thinks. The pause is a little too long for my taste.

"Well, thanks for the offer, but you can't have Bella because she'_s _mine."

_Ah, he had been debating whether to spill the beans or not._ I can't even be mad, since there was an unwavering strength in his statement that is incredibly satisfying.

"Yours? She is your lover?"

"Yes, but she's more than that. She's my life and I don't share her. She's also going to be my angry girlfriend when she finds out I told you we're in love. We were advised to be professional at this event and keep our private lives private."

"What idiot dictated that? You are an artist with paint, she with words, you should be fucking out for the whole world to see."

"That's what I said," he grumbles.

"Well, grow some balls, man. Go out there and claim your woman. Kiss her in front of all of these pretentious assholes and then take her to the hotel and fuck her senseless for me. This is Spain-we are a passionate people…we expect such things." She throws her long mane of hair back on her shoulder and walks out of the room with flourish.

Edward stays behind just long enough for me to sneak into the room. When he sees me he blanches.

"Did you hear that?"

"Every word."

He considers me carefully. "Are you mad?"

"Mad that you spilled the beans about us? No, how could I be considering the circumstance you were in?

He smiles. "Yeah, well, you can bet I won't leave you alone with her again."

"So are you going to take me back to the hotel and fuck me senseless?"

"You bet, baby." He pulls me into his arms and I get the big kiss. And although he isn't doing the tongue tango with me in front of everyone, it's still great.

_Thank you, Paloma._

..~*~..

Although we are both aware that it is our last evening in Barcelona, the pull to be alone and tucked away in our suite is overwhelming. But the museum has booked the private room at Casa Calvet, one of Barcelona's best restaurants, located in one of Gaudi's buildings, the Placa Catalunya. So despite our yearning, we attend the dinner, our last formal obligation of the trip. There is still an excited buzz from the show and everyone is festive. We aren't the only ones thrilled that the opening is such a success.

Edward maneuvers the seating around so I am next to him. There are about a dozen of us around a long table in the softly lit private room. When the wine is served in fine crystal goblets, Edward proposes a toast.

"I would like to thank Diego, Paloma, Andres, and all of the new friends we've made during this amazing experience. I'm so proud to have my work in your world-class museum. We have been treated so well during our time here, and we're enchanted with Barcelona and hope to return soon."

I look around at the candle-lit faces, happy to see them smile with Edward's words. I feel Edward slide his hand across my back and rest on my shoulder, his fingers lightly caressing me.

"Finally, I'd like to thank our wonderful author -my _girlfriend,_ Bella, for her support. This trip was that much more special because she shared it with me. I love you, baby."

"I knew it!" I hear someone whisper. "Ahhh," I hear sighed further down the table.

He raises his glass higher. "Salud!"

"Salud!" Echos through the room as everyone joins in on the toast. Edward gives me a devilish look and kisses me hard before we sink back down into our seats.

My eyes drop to my plate as I feel the flush move across my cheeks. But when I look up, Diego is grinning at me with a knowing look and raises his glass again. "To love!" he exclaims and we all laugh happily.

I don't know what I feared, but thankfully there is no fallout from Edward's announcement. Actually, with all the colorful conversation the dinner goes more quickly than I would have imagined. At the end when we finally say our thank yous and farewells, Paloma is the last to say goodbye. Her smile is almost shy as he reaches over and takes my hand.

"Friends?"

"Of course," I respond warmly pulling her into a hug. "Thank you for everything. You took such good care of us, Paloma."

She smiles and gently kisses me on each cheek before stepping in front of Edward and grabbing his lapel.

"As for you mister. You better take care of this lovely, sexy woman."

"I will, I promise," Edward assures her, smiling before they embrace.

.

When we get back to the room there are candles lit and a bottle of champagne chilling. There is a card next to the bottle with a single letter…P.

"Now that's a good PR person," Edward laughs. "That Paloma is one of a kind."

"Yes, well, as she said…Spanish are passionate people. I'm actually glad she knows our secret now."

"No more secrets," he confirms.

He smoothly opens the bottle and fills the two flutes before handing me one. I lift the glass.

"To you Edward…your art, your vision. I don't know when I've ever been more in awe of you than I was tonight."

We click glasses and take long sips. He looks deep in thought. As he gazes out the window, his voice takes on a wistful quality.

"You know, this show was planned a long time ago, before I had even met you, Bella. So when I used to imagine how it would feel to have my very own museum show, and then try to picture what it would be like, I never imagined I would have the love of my life here with me. You being here, baby, has made the whole experience mean so much more to me."

His breath catches. "I'm so fucking happy right now."

I grin at him. "Me too." I step closer and sink into him before lifting my chin and kissing him gently. The sweet bitter sting of the champagne flavors our kiss. His mouth moves softly over mine. We focus on each other with a brilliant intensity, every feeling saturated with color, as if we are bathed in a warm pure light.

I know I'm gently holding his heart, and I'll never let it go. When we finally part, I angle myself so my lips are near the edge of his ear. "I love you so much, Edward," I whisper.

He closes his eyes and his head tips back as if he has just tasted something delicious. I can hear the adoration in his reply.

"Oh my, Bella, I love you too."

.

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_**Happy New Year! Wishing everyone a wonderful 2011! When I started the new year for 2010 I had no idea I would write a fanfic story. It's turned out to be an incredible gift to connect with you through these characters. Thank you so much for your support and encouragement. :-)**_

There will be a teaser on the Work of Art forum Wednesday http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

Remove spaces and turn (dot) into .

Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

See you next Saturday!


	50. Chapter 50  Defy Gravity

_Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art._

**_Thank you to Work of Art's three Wonder Women…my beta TwilightZoner and pre-readers CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen_**

**_Also a huge thanks to whoever nominated Work of Art as Most Romantic Story in the Twinkling's Walk of Fame Awards. Even with awards where WofA doesn't stand a chance against the really big stories, I consider it such a great honor to be nominated. And being in the "Most Romantic"category makes it even better!_**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Fifty / Defy Gravity**

_The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. ~William Shakespeare_

_.  
_

Sometimes the best trip can end badly. It all comes down to the fact that travel can be a raving bitch. Edward and I arrived at the airport relaxed from our idyllic morning at Gaudi's magical Gruell Park, but after six hours waiting to get reassigned seats at the Charles DeGaulle airport, we were definitely edgy. Our flight leaving Barcelona was delayed, and as a consequence we missed our connecting flight in Paris. By the time we arrived at LAX, we had been traveling for twenty-three hours straight only to find that our luggage was somewhere in Dallas. _Fuck it all._

Originally we had only arranged one airport car pick-up because we were going to have dinner together. But now it is so late and we are so fried that Edward decides to give me the car and he'll take a cab to Malibu. I am supposed to be back at work in nine hours, and I need to lie in my own bed and try to step back into the real world again. He has things he needs to take care of at home as well. He has a ton of work and commitments that will keep him occupied most of the week.

Before we part I hold onto him, my eyes closed and face pressed to his chest. He rubs his chin over the top of my head and pulls me tighter.

"You know that if you lived with me we wouldn't have to say goodbye right now."

"Stop it!" I moan into his neck. "I'm too tired to be tortured. Believe me, right now I wish I lived with you too."

"Then just stop being so stubborn, woman. I'll send the moving van over Saturday. I'm ready to clear out half of my closet to give you space."

"Only half? No deal, Mr. Masen."

"Take it all, my love, just come be with me."

My lips find his and let him know just how much I want to be with him. "Soon, baby, very soon."

"Promise?" he asks with disbelieving eyes.

"Yes, promise."

The smile he gives me before we step apart is so joyful that I grin all the way home.

..~*~..

In that heavy thickness of jetlag I do my best to get through the following work day. I've gone from _princess of the art ball_ to _working stiff_ in a matter of hours. It's a rough transition. I go over my task list with Emmett, but he can tell my mind is somewhere else.

"Earth to Bella," he teases.

"I'm here, I'm here. Why are you so pushy anyway, mister?"

"Because, my Spanish señorita, I'm leaving early today, and I need you to pick up the slack. Ted is whisking me away for a mini-vacation in Vegas."

"Vegas?"

"Yeah, he has a work gig and they are putting him up at the Bellagio. So we are going to lay by the pool all morning, then he goes and does his thing, and when he's done we party all night. He even got me Celine Dion tickets."

"Honestly, you are so gay, Emmett."

"I know but you love it, baby."

"Yes, I do." I hug him hard. "You big, gay, beautiful boy. I love you so much it hurts."

"Watch it, love, your man has a sixth sense as to when someone is touching his woman, and he is going to break through the door in a minute and beat the crap out of me."

"So you think he is the jealous type?"

"Does the sun shine? I mean seriously, sister, I have never seen anyone look at their lover the way he looks at you. It's rather endearing, even when he pisses me off."

"Pisses you off? How?"

He doesn't like to share his play toys. Sometimes I worry that he will lock you in his dungeon and it's the last we will see of you," he teases. I know he's trying to provoke me so I play along.

"Ah come on, he's a little caveman, but he's getting better every day."

..~*~..

Jacob's latest strategy, on the other hand, is to pretend that I still don't have a boyfriend.

"Bella, you want to see a movie Saturday night?"

"Oh, sorry Jacob, but I'm busy Saturday." _I'll be making love with my boyfriend_, I think happily.

Busy doing what?

"I'll be in Malibu with Edward."

"Oh," he growls. "Edward." He spits his name out like it's a dirty word.

"My boyfriend…" I emphasize. "Besides Jacob, you need to get out of your comfort zone. When was the last time you dated someone new?"

"A while ago," he admits, looking away.

"What's that about? A fun, good looking guy like you should have no trouble meeting cute girls."

He grins. "So you think I'm good looking?"

I push him. "Stop it! You know everyone thinks you're good looking."

"I want to know what you think." He pushes back.

"Yes, yes, I think you are good looking, and you're a great guy. So you have no excuse."

"You sound like my mother, Bella."

"Well, your mom is right. You should be out looking for your dream girl. She's out there, you just don't look hard enough."

He gives me a look that tugs sharply on my heart. "What happens if my dream girl is already taken?"

"Then you keep looking until you find one that isn't."

"But Bella, that doesn't mean we don't ever spend time with old friends. Here…work with me a minute. We're still friends after all. Why can't we go to the movies and out for a beer like old times? Don't you think that would be fun?"

_You don't know what it is like to make love to Edward,_ I think, happily. _Now that's fun._

Jacob cuts me off at the pass. "Don't say no yet. Just think about it, okay?"

I tip my head at him and smile as I think of a compromise. "How about Wednesday night after work?"

"Well, that's better than nothing," he grumbles. But I can tell he is happy we have plans.

..~*~..

It's all well and good that Jacob and I have a beer and see _Adventureland_ together Wednesday, but by the time he drops me off at my apartment I'm really getting itchy. There is nothing like spending time with the wrong guy to put a hot spotlight on the right guy. I need my Edward fix.

Coincidentally, Edward must need his Bella fix, because when I turn my phone back on I see that he has left five messages. _If he goes caveman on me I'm going to be furious, I think irritably_…I was with my buddy Jacob for God's sake. I immediately call him and steel myself for the jealous onslaught, but it never comes. Instead he is more calculating and comes off calm and concerned.

"Are you all right, baby, I couldn't reach you?"

"I told you I was seeing Jacob tonight."

There is a long silence on the other end before he calmly asks, "And how is young Jacob? Has he found a boyfriend yet?"

"Edward," I hiss. "You know he isn't gay."

"I don't know, love, my gaydar goes a little wonky when he's around."

"Is that why you called five times, to make sure my gaydar was on?"

"No, I actually had a legitimate business reason to call. And sorry for the late notice- Jasper swears he told me about this already…but are you free three Saturdays from now to do a big book signing at Barnes and Noble at the Grove? "

"The Grove?" I squeak. This is a distraction worth caving in for. "They only do the biggest authors and personalities there."

"Yes, looks like you've made the big time, baby. How does it feel?"

"As long as I'm with you it feels fantastic."

"Well, one other thing came up, but I know it will be more problematic…I want you to think about it, though, okay?"

"You've got me curious, what is it?"

"The Pompidou in Paris wants to meet with me, and they're asking me to come out. I know this is sooner than you expected, but I want you to join me. We could keep it short and just stay a week. Our first trip to Paris…"

"Damn, Edward. Are you serious? Of course I want to go, but how will I get more time off from Carlisle?"

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No! Let me think about how I want to handle this. You know how much I want this, I just have to figure out the logistics."

Suddenly, somewhere in the apartment I hear my girl singing at the top of her lungs. Alice must have come home while I've been on the phone.

_So if you care to find me  
Look to the western sky!  
As someone told me lately:  
Everyone deserves the chance to fly!_

"Who the hell is that?" Edward asks anxiously.

"It's Alice," I reply, baffled. "She must have had a crappy day. She only sings Broadway musicals when she is really upset. I better go see what's up."

"Okay, baby, we will talk more about this tomorrow."

.

I slowly walk down the hallway towards the wailing.

_And if I'm flying solo  
At least I'm flying free  
To those who'd ground me  
Take a message back from me_

I stop in front of the bathroom door. She's singing _Wicked._ Somebody must have really pissed her off.

I knock on the door lightly. "Alice, are you okay? Did Jasper do something really bad?"

_Tell them how I am  
…Defying gravity  
I'm flying high  
…Defying gravity_

She's concerning me now. I push the door open to find my girl in a tub so full of bubbles that she looks lost in a snowstorm. Her eyes are wild and angry. She is pumped up and seeing me only provides the audience she's been craving. She flails her arms through the foam as she finishes the song.

_And soon I'll match them in renown  
And nobody…in all of Oz  
No Wizard that there is…or was  
Is…ever…gonna…bring…me…down!_

Well, she is certainly no Idina Menzel, but what she lacks in voice she makes up with passion. Bubbles are now dripping off all the walls.

"Did something happen at work?" I'm not leaving until I get some type of answer from my angry little Elphaba.

She nods. "They're all motherfuckers."

"Once again confirming it isn't the happiest place on earth," I respond.

"You said it, girlfriend! My Jasper had planned a romantic weekend up the coast in wine country. I swear, Bella, I think he was going to propose. And then I get called in by my boss just before leaving and told that I have to go to the friggin' comic convention in San Diego this weekend and I must cancel all my plans immediately."

"Comic Convention. Isn't that fan-boy central? I've heard about that crazy convention. Why would you go there? What does that have to do with little girls who want to be princesses?"

"Exactly!" she exclaims. "But Disney recently bought Marvel Comics which is big at this show. And then some geekwad came up with the genius idea of a campaign where the super heroes and princesses unite to save the fucking world. It's the merchandiser's wet dream."

"No! That is so absurd it's funny."

"Well, I'm not laughing. They said, I have to go to do research for creative. When I get back they expect me to make a presentation at their big circle jerk conference.

"I can't even get Jasper to go with me." She moans. "He says he can handle the fan-boys but the fan-girls scare the shit out of him. "

"How would he even know?" I ask, suddenly curious.

"He had a friend drag him to a Science Fiction convention once and he still hasn't gotten over it. Evidently while they were walking around he accidently stepped on some chicks cape causing her to fall backwards into him, and her boyfriend threatened him with a knife."

"Yikes!"

"Yeah, he doesn't want to tempt fate again."

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry. But Jasper will find another time for your romantic weekend," I assure her. "He's a very clever boy."

Alice's situation reminds me that sometimes we can do everything right and still some tornado or flying monkey can turn the best laid plans upside down.

..~*~..

The next morning before work my cell phone prompt goes off. I have changed the tune for Edward's ringtone to Snow Patrol's, _Just Say Yes. _He greets me happily and inquires about Alice before confirming our date today. I explain her Comic Con-Jasper predicament and assure him that after her bath and a girl talk she was a bit calmer_._

"So, where am I taking you for lunch today? Do you have a particular craving?" he asks. I can tell by the tone of his voice that he's excited to see me.

_I'm sure you know what I'm craving,_ I think.

"Well actually, I helped Alice make enough pasta Tuesday night to feed a small army. I thought we could have lunch here."

"You are going to cook for me?" he teases sweetly.

"Well, technically I'm heating up…but yes, I want to feed you."

"I can't wait."

.

At noon I rush out of the gallery so I can get home and have things ready before Edward arrives at twelve-thirty. I scramble with the final touches, and only a minute later I hear the front door open. My man is right on time.

My pulse races as I hear his footsteps slowly make their way down our hallway. The bedroom door slowly swings open, and my heart skips to see him standing only feet away, wearing black jeans and a green shirt the color of his eyes. He is all legs and shoulders and that gorgeous sexy smile. His eyes spark as he takes me in.

He waves the slip of paper at me.

"Found your note…I'll be heating things up…in the bedroom…" I get another big smile, this time while his eyes look over the contours of the sheet that is pulled over me.

"Hmmm, yes, I'm heated up, you want a taste?"

"You know I do. I am getting the sense that I am going to be greatly rewarded and not for the time you slaved in the kitchen."

"Are you hungry?" I tease.

"Starving," he says lowly with dark taunting eyes. "I've missed you, baby."

He walks over to the foot of the bed and grabs a hold of the sheet then slowly…so slowly, he pulls it off of me. When it passes over my breasts, confirming that I am complete naked, he takes a deep breath, and I notice his hand tighten over the sheet. I can't help but blush when the edge passes across my thighs, but as I watch his reaction my confidence grows. When the sheet is in a puddle on the bed's edge I smile seductively at him. I look down and see evidence of his growing arousal.

"And to think I wanted to go to a restaurant," he says in a low voice.

"It's not too late," I tease. "We can still go out. Here, just let me throw on my clothes." I start to lift off the bed.

"Lay back down, woman. Who needs food when you're served up?"

He pulls his shirt up over his head and just the sight of his naked, defined chest makes me twist with desire. His hands slowly undo his pants as he watches me squirm. I take a sharp breath when I see that he is already fully aroused. He barely has his shoes and socks off before I pull him onto the bed and on top of me. I want his weight pressing down on me, grounding me from the chaotic swirl in my mind.

He brushes his lips across my cheek and whispers in my ear. "You _are_ hungry, baby. Tell me what you want." He pushes his hips down so his arousal is pressed hard against me.

"You…all of you."

"You've got me, and this is exactly where I want to be." He pulls me closer.

We begin to kiss, slowly at first, savoring every taste of each other. I am simmering as he moves over me, sliding his arousal against my wetness. I need more-more tongue, more cool skin against my heat-and I need the overwhelming fullness of him inside of me. I spread my legs further, an invitation to come inside, but he's taking his time, enjoying watching me come undone.

"Mr. Masen, you're making me crazy," I growl.

"Appetizers should be savored before the main course." He grins before swirling his tongue over my nipple.

"Appetizers, huh?" Using my hips I roll us over and lift up until I am straddling him, my thighs pinning him down.

I rise over him. His eyes widen as one of my hands cups my breast and the other slides between my legs. My fingers move and I moan.

"I'm too wound up for savoring. If you continue this way I may need to take care of myself before the main course."

He looks up at me, and his cool exterior is faltering. His twitching cock, steely look, and ragged breath give him away.

"Bella," he moans.

"Is there something you want?" I ask. My hand continues to pleasure. I can tease too.

He fists himself. "I want to feel you around me. Now, baby."

I smile with my eyes, my mouth a perfect _O_ as I rise and sink over him in one graceful motion.

A flush moves over his chest and face. His lips meet mine, and the kiss is harder edged-full of fire. I quiver above him as he kisses me again and again all the while we push back and forth, each stroke harder and deeper.

He reaches up and takes my breast in his mouth as I arch over him. I growl and hiss as he bites me. His eyes look up at me with a devilish smile, and it makes me wonder what he is seeing.

"What?" I pant.

"You are wild today, baby. I fucking love it."

I lean over him, grinning as my nails press hard into him, and my hair falls around us. I love his taste, his smell, his strength in the way he lifts his weight effortlessly off the bed to thrust into me. His fingers dig into my hips as I rock over him. I hold him inside of me like I will never let go.

My heart is thundering as our climax approaches. I lose all reason, for in this overwhelming moment it feels as if my heart could stop. But Edward tethers me to him, the sound of his panting, grunts, and professions of desire are silk ropes around my ankles and wrists keeping me close.

His expression has a burning intensity. If I could paint him, this would be his portrait. He is fighting letting go as hard as I'm fighting to get there.

Then suddenly I am falling up, feeling sensations I can't put words around. There is fluttering-a shimmering of light and shadow, the bright spot at the top of my vision glows, ready to burst and explode with light.

A hundred butterflies could land on me right now and I wouldn't even notice.

His eyes roll back into his head before he pitches forward. He is earth and heat, energy and momentum. A perfect specimen of physics in action, but how do you define the colors of passion rolling over him. I watch his body tighten, preparing for his release as mine begins.

There is nothing like watching your man, who is captive under your spread thighs, seize then explode inside of you to take you to your exquisite place. In response, I arch back and grasp his legs to hold me up as my climax fully lets go. He watches me soar into pleasure, my head thrown back, my lips wet and parted. We both cry out in some ancient battle call, our voices blending together in a sacred song.

After we pull every last sensation out of each other, it takes me longer than usual to catch my breath, but all the while we are grinning happily at each other. I lay over him, unable to move.

"You were amazing, baby," he says contentedly. "I'm not sure what came over you, but we need to do this lunchtime rendezvous more often. That was explosive. I feel like I've been shot out of a canon."

"Me too," I laugh as I turn back towards the clock. "Oh fuck, look at the time. We better eat!"

"And I get fed too," he says happily to himself as he gets off the bed and pulls on his clothes.

.

I've been back at the gallery for about an hour when my phone rings. I don't recognize the number so I let it go to voicemail. But on my break I listen to the message.

"Hey Isabella. It's Tom Strathmore, the Producer on the artist interviews you shot recently. Anyway, there is a great opportunity we want to talk to you about. I know this is short notice, but can you come to my office late this afternoon? We are in Hollywood just off Melrose. Give my assistant Susanna a call and she will schedule it." He leaves the number before hanging up.

I hold the phone to my ear for another minute in a daze. Great opportunity? This afternoon? I am overwhelmed with curiosity and a touch of anxiety, my mind racing with the possibilities. I immediately call Susanna and she schedules me for 6:30. They must work really late, but at least it means that I don't have to take time off work.

Luckily it's just a short drive to their offices, located in a retro building on a street where every address appears to be production offices, shooting stages, or recording studios. I am a few minutes early so I sit in my car trying to calm myself before heading in for my appointment.

The receptionist is an edgy Goth type, her pale skin embellished with elaborate tattoos. Jet black hair frames her face and a pierced eyebrow completes the look.

"You're here for Tom…Isabella, right?"

"Well, Bella actually."

"Cool. I'll tell Tom you're here."

I sit down in the reception area and reach for one of the production magazines on the fancy coffee table. I realize that the custom designed table reminds me of a Mondrian painting. It is a combination of various rectangular shapes of thick black metal bars, and some of the shapes are filled with primary color. Each leather chair in the seating area is also a different primary color. There is a huge graffiti-style painting on the wall. Next to the couch is a glass-fronted mini-fridge filled with exotic-flavored waters and sodas, with jars of candy on top.

_This must be a fun place to work, _I think as I listen to Phoenix being pumped in through the sound system.

"Bella, they're ready," Goth girl calls out to me, and I follow her down a hallway with large posters of their various productions framed on the wall.

"Here you go." She points into the office and I step inside. I am surprised to see not just Tom, but three other people waiting for me. They all stand to shake my hand.

"Bella, do you remember Sonja from the ArtOne party? She is our VP of Development. I shake her hand.

"I don't believe you met Ben Silverstein who's head of Operations, and Seth Kirkland, VP of Production." After shaking their hands we all sit down.

"Sorry to take you by storm like this. But we are under a crunch with the network and things are moving very fast."

"No problem," I assure him. "I am intrigued-what did you want to talk about?"

"Have you seen any coverage of your time in Spain?" he asks in a direct tone.

"Coverage? No, I haven't seen it yet…why?" I am confused. How would they have seen Spain footage, and why would they even want to?

"They must have quite a PR team at the museum. They had you and Masen portrayed like the royal couple of the art world. It's not just Masen, you are famous over there now too."

"Well, I don't know about famous, but we did get more attention than I expected." I'm relieved they aren't making an issue of Edward and I being outed as a couple.

"Well, Bill, the head of ArtOne, saw the footage, and he is convinced that you are a star in the making."

"Really?" I would be amused, but they all seem very serious.

"He wants you…and we all agree, that you should be part of our team. Are you ready for your life to change, Ms. Swan?"

"Part of your team?" Wow, this is amazing. "What do you have in mind for me?" My mind is racing trying to understand what has just been thrown at me.

"Yes, he wants you to star in their new show _ArtOne Presents: The Artist Revealed_. And it's the show they are most excited about for their launching line-up."

I am completely stunned. I can only imagine the look of shock on my face. I take a deep breath and try to control my inner hysteria. The first words to slide out of my trembling mouth sound surprisingly calm. "Well, I'm very flattered. But why me?" Surely my lack of experience worries them. There must be better candidates.

Sonja jumps in. "Well, we understand how sudden this must seem to you, so if I may, I'll explain how this came about. We've had this show in development for well over a year. We already had commitments from a number of fantastic artists, but we just couldn't find the right host. It seems that anyone we found who had the right amount of knowledge about contemporary art, along with a foundation of art history, was completely flat on camera. We tested over thirty people, many of them very well respected in your field. And of course there is a wide selection of personalities who can make a good interviewing host, but they didn't have the knowledge to pull off informed and relevant conversations with the artist.

"This concept is about approachability-creating an opportunity where Joe Average can spend a day with the artist in their studio, hanging out, and seeing how they spend their time. It's a chance to see how the artist's mind works outside the formal interview setting. The idea for the host's role is a back and forth impromptu conversation with the artist…not a format where a host would be checking off a list of pre-written questions."

Seth jumps in. "So when your taping with Masen came to our attention, we got very excited. We needed to know though, that the dynamics of that interview wasn't reliant solely on your obvious chemistry with Masen. So when we set up the Cindy Sherman shoot, we purposely picked one of the most reclusive, challenging artists to interview. "

"And you gave us a home run," Sonja states firmly.

"You have everything we want: you are very pleasing to the eye on camera, you have a fresh, fun point of view, and you have all the education and knowledge of art that makes you believable," says Ben.

"The demographics are perfect. And you are the perfect blend of relatable versus aspirational," Sonja fires off.

"Aspirational?" I ask.

"Yes, it's not just that people will like you, they want to be you. You tested extremely high in our focus groups."

_Wow…focus groups?_ The seriousness of this hits me over the head again.

"So, Bella," Jim says dramatically, "are you ready to be the host of the coolest show ever produced in this genre? Are you ready to be the media darling of the entire art world?"

My instincts tell me that no matter what hesitation and insecurities I have, I need to serve my response up to them in the right way.

"Yes! I am stunned, but I am beyond thrilled to have this opportunity. I am very honored to be considered for such a great concept."

"That's just want we wanted to hear. This is great…very exciting," Jim confirms.

"So, if you don't have a lawyer or agent, you need to get one immediately. Do you have people that can help you? We can't help you with that since we have to stay neutral with that part of the process. Our lawyers will be presenting a contract by early next week, and we want this wrapped up as quickly as possible."

Wow, this is moving so fast. I am flying along with the speed of light.

"I am going to need to talk to my current boss. What kind of timing are we looking at?"

"Yes, there is a lot to take care of so that you can be clear and focused. You will need to be prepared. The shooting schedule will be intense. Up to six days a week and long hours. And we would like to go into production in six weeks.

_Six weeks? Good God._ "Okay," I say trying to keep the shaking out of my voice.

"Oh, and there is one other important detail."

"Yes?"

"You will need to re-locate for at least a year. I hope you like _the Big Apple_. The first season will be shot in New York."

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**_Bring it on baby…I want to hear from you!_**

There will be a teaser on the Work of Art forum Wednesday http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

Remove spaces and turn (dot) into .

Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

See you next Saturday...


	51. Chapter 51  The Minefield

_Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art._

_A big thank you to my beta TwilightZoner and pre-readers CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen_

**I also want to thank you guys…although no one was happy about the idea of Bella taking a job away from Edward, everyone that reviewed was respectful about it. I have such great readers and I'm grateful.**

**Warning: we are heading into challenging times. It is important to remember that Edward is borderline Asperger's. An aspect of that is that he doesn't accept change well and it can cause him to retreat into himself. **

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**Work of Art / Chapter Fifty-one / The Minefield**

_Those who expect moments of change to be comfortable and free of conflict have not learned their history. ~Joan Wallach Scott_

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New York? I'm moving to New York? The lights in the room suddenly seem brighter, every color in the room more vibrant.

A thrill shoots through me. I have always wanted to live in New York and now the opportunity is being handed to me on a silver platter. I picture the skyline in my head, but then Edward's face settles over the picture and my heart freezes. This news will not be well received by my man-of that there is no doubt.

One year is forever and yet it's a blink of an eye. Our love has never been stronger, but can it survive a year of being in a long distance relationship? Can I even bear the idea of being away from him that long?

As my thoughts shoot around like the silver ball in a pinball machine, I am reminded of the primary subject of this meeting: the new job…the unbelievably fantastic and thrilling new job. The idea of having this type of experience with so many important artists is almost more than I can comprehend. I picture myself on a TV screen with the words _hosted by Bella Swan_ placed underneath. It is like some crazy fantasy the teenage version of me would have spent endless hours daydreaming about before real life kicked the naïveté out of me. The resulting feeling of bewilderment takes my breath away.

Jim clears his throat, and I am pulled back into the present company. "Well, Bella, you certainly have a lot to think about. I sincerely hope you decide to take this on. Think of it, you will be able to work with some of the most significant and interesting artists alive and you will make an important place for yourself in the art world. You will even have the opportunity to do some of the writing for the show. I am sure once you and your agent weigh it all out there is no way you will turn it down."

"I can't imagine turning down the chance of a lifetime," I agree.

We all say our goodbyes, and I head towards the reception desk. By the time I get to my car I realize that I don't even remember walking out of the building. Once inside I pull out my cell phone and cradle it in my hand. Who should I call first? Edward is the obvious choice, but I also know that this is a conversation we have to have in person after I have gotten my thoughts straightened out. He is going to be upset and I need to be centered and calm to convince him how it can all work out for us. Alice and Emmett will both be personally affected by my leaving our work and home situations if I take this job, so I doubt they can be completely objective. Calling my practical and supportive Rose becomes the best choice. Luckily she answers the phone.

"Hey Bella, what's up?"

"I was wondering if I could come over? I really need to talk to you. Are you free?"

"Sure, baby. I've been fighting with this painting all afternoon and I think the bastard's won. I've given up on it, so I have all the time you need. Lauren is on a three day shoot and it would be good to have the company."

When I arrive, Rose is still in her studio looking through her reference books. There is a large canvas on her huge wooden easel, but she has turned the entire thing towards the wall so she doesn't have to look at it. The painting really must have pissed her off. I know better than to ask to see it.

Billie Holiday is playing on the sound system, and as I settle onto the velvet chaise lounge I look up at the ceiling. The Christmas lights strung all over the ceiling are lit and giving the room an ethereal glow.

"So?" she asks as she sets down her book and rolls over to me on her drafting chair.

"You are not going to believe this," I insist as I fold my arms over my chest.

"What did art boy do now? Did he have another jealous rage? He better get a handle on that shit before you move in with him."

"No, this isn't about him. I just got the most unbelievable job offer. I'm frankly still in shock."

"Really? I didn't even know you were looking?"

"I wasn't. They came to me…they want me. I still can't believe it."

"Okay, you've got me intrigued. What is the job _Ms. Yes I'm all that_?"

"You know that new network, ArtOne? They have a show they have developed called _The Artist Revealed _and they want me to be the host!"

"Wait a minute…did I just hear you right? You are going to be the host of a TV show about artists?"

"That is correct."

Her high pitched yell almost knocks me off the velvet cushion I'm perched on. "Oh my God, Bella, that is awesome!" She jumps up and runs over to scoop me up in her arms.

"Baby, you've hit the big time! My little girl is going to be famous and hanging with the hoi polloi of the art world. I'm so thrilled for you!" There is a weight and honesty to her words. I can tell that her pleasure in my success is purely selfless.

"Oh thanks, Rose. Thanks so much." I give her a big smile but twist my hands nervously.

"What is it girl? You look torn about something. Is there a problem with their offer?"

"There's a problem all right. The job is in New York. I would have to relocate there for a year."

Her face falls. "Edward," she gasps. "Have you told him yet?"

"No, I literally just left the meeting. I don't know how I'm going to tell him about this. He's going to freak out."

Rose starts pacing from one end of her studio to the other. "Yes, he's going to freak. He's going to have to figure out how to deal with it. This will be a real test for you guys."

"What if he can't deal with it? What if it ruins our relationship?"

"Look, I can stand here and be all cavalier and tell you that if it ruins your relationship then you guys weren't meant to be together. But that would be bullshit. Edward is a different kind of relationship, and you knew that when you signed on with him. He needs you near him. If you leave I'm not sure what will happen."

"This isn't making me feel any better, Rose."

"No, but I'm serving it up straight, girlfriend. I care about you and I care about Edward, and I wish there was an easy answer here."

"Well, I could just turn it down. That would keep things from changing."

"You wouldn't do that, would you?" she asks pointedly, the feminist in her challenging me.

"I can't imagine turning it down even if it meant keeping our relationship in this happy place. I wouldn't expect him to do that for me."

"Ah baby, and that is where you are wrong. You can't take a moment in life where everything is great and freeze it so it stays the same. Things will keep moving, life will keep changing, whether you want it to or not. You have been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, and now that is between you two whether you take the job or not. It will always be there."

My heart swells with sadness at her truth. I curl forward, my face falling into my hands.

"Being in love with Edward has been the best thing that has every happened to me, Rose. I love him so much it hurts sometimes. I can't imagine giving him up, losing him to a job. I just wish I could ask him to move there with me."

"Yeah, it sucks that he's convinced himself he couldn't work in New York. He says it every time we go there-something about the craziness of the city making him too nervous to focus. I think it's the after-effect of his school experience back there."

"Yes, he's told me that he loves to visit but would never live there."

"Well, here is another way to look at this. You know Lauren and I watch that lifestyle cable channel once in a while. Well, there was this series they produced about lottery winners. One show we watched was about how winning the money had ruined these people's lives. The other show was about people who had embraced the experience and were now living the lives of their dreams."

"And how does this apply to my job offer?"

"You've been handed a fucking winning lottery ticket Bella. What are you going to do, give the ticket back to them because your boyfriend may be uncomfortable with how things may change?"

"Well, when you say it like that it does sound ridiculous.

"It's all about how you guys chose to handle this. Maybe this experience will teach you that you guys were great in the moment but not meant for the long haul. And things will just run their course.

I feel a surge of denial that this could even be a possibility.

"Or, on the other hand if you two do have the future together that we imagine, then this will teach you about weathering the challenges life throws at you. There's something good about learning early on how strong you really are as a couple."

"Lauren travels a lot and you guys seem to deal with it."

"Yes, we do deal with it, and most of the time it isn't a problem. You know how independent I am. But I'm not going to lie, there are times that I hate it, and I just want her here in my arms. If we have a kid it will only get harder. As it is about three times a year I try to talk her into changing careers, but this is who she is…what she was meant to do. We all have our destiny. This is yours."

..~*~..

The next morning at the gallery I step outside during my morning break to make a phone call.

"If it isn't the lovely Ms. Swan. What can I do for you, my dear?"

"Hi Mr. Masen, I was wondering if you could help me. I need to find a good entertainment lawyer-slash-agent and I have no idea how to do that. I normally ask Carlisle for such advice but television production isn't his world."

"Of course, sweetheart, hmmm…I have just the guy for you. He's young and charming on the outside but tough when it counts, just like you. What may I ask is this for?"

"I've just been asked to host a television show about artists, and I'm going to need help with the deal and contract."

"What did I tell you? I can always spot talent. Too bad they got you before I did."

"Yes, they certainly surprised me, and now the whole thing is moving so fast I hardly know what to do."

"Well, I'm happy to help you, beautiful. You can call me anytime. What does my son think about this?"

"Well, I'm telling him about it tonight. You see, the job is in New York and he isn't going to like that. I've got to break it to him easy."

"Yes, the easier the better. Knowing hot head he isn't going to be happy. If he's the asshole I'm expecting, call me and I'll straighten him out."

I pause considering my next question, and I actually shock myself that I'm bold enough to ask it.

"What if it were_ your_ woman going to New York for a job." I know he and Edward have more in common than either would ever admit.

"Oh no, that wouldn't happen. I don't do long distance, baby. There are too many ways for things to go wrong. I doubt you'll convince my son, but I wish you luck trying. Just be ready for anything."

I fear I'm doomed, and my heart sinks several notches lower.

..~*~..

The rest of the day at the gallery is an exercise in restraint. I can't tell anyone my exciting news yet, and I can barely handle my fear for how Edward is going to react to me tonight. Luckily Emmett is in Vegas, since I think he would instinctively sense my inner turmoil and would try to drill it out of me. Everyone else is distracted and busy enough that my secret is safe, and I get through the afternoon without coming apart at the seams.

My stomach churns the entire drive to Malibu, but I keep lecturing myself not to let my fear get out of hand. There is no reason to expect the very worst. Edward's a different man than when we first met. Perhaps all that therapy will help him have a balanced view of the situation.

I find him in the kitchen putting the final touches on a piece of salmon before he puts it in the oven to bake. I give him a hug and kiss and then jump in making the salad while he prepares the asparagus. While we work he tells me all about his class at the high school earlier and how it looks like Dreamworks is interested in developing one of the students I had met, shy Cedric Johnston, as a digital background artist. Edward had forwarded jpegs of some of his fantasical paintings to one of Jasper's old friends who is an executive there and things took off from there.

"Does it bother you to push him towards more commercial work as opposed to staying in the fine art world?"

"Not at all," he responds shaking his head. "Cedric doesn't really have the personality to survive in the fine art world, but he could fit in nicely with those animation types where the talent is most important not the personality. Besides the work in animation is really creative."

"Look at that," I say softly, hugging him from behind while he works. "You just changed the course of one young man's life."

He turns around grinning and hugs me tightly. "It's so great, isn't it? It really makes me feel good that I was able to help him."

I selfishly am thrilled that he's in such a good mood as it should make my news go down easier. We grab our plates and glasses of wine and head out to the patio. The sun is lingering for its finally moments over the horizon, and the waves are crashing just beyond us with unusual force.

While we eat I watch him carefully trying, to imagine what I would think if this were the first time I met him. Sometimes with art or music you are swept off your feet at first, infatuated with every note, every brush stroke that brought this creation to light. But then over time, with countless viewings and playing the song until you can sing it in your sleep, the object of your admiration gradually loses its allure.

But when I look at Edward, I realize that hasn't happened. Every time I have an unguarded moment to study him, his striking good looks take my breath away. And tonight, as his emerald eyes flash with excited energy and a russet flush is painted across his cheekbones, he is the very essence of male perfection and I've never wanted him more.

He stretches his long legs out under the table and then slides his foot under mine. I smile at his instinctive need to always be physically connected, and I take a sip of my wine while he appears to wait for me.

"Are you done?"

"I guess so why? Are we in a hurry for something?"

"Yeah, I have something I want to show you." He is clearly excited and my heart skips.

We carry our plates in to the kitchen, but instead of cleaning up he pushes me out the kitchen door. He takes me by the hand, pulling me upstairs towards his bedroom. My heart is thundering. _What in the world is he going to show me upstairs? _At this point, I am game for anything to distract me from having to give him my big news. To my disappointment, he passes the bed without a pause and pulls open his closet door.

"Look," he says excitedly, pointing inside.

I peek in to see that about three quarters of the closet is empty. He has made a space for me. My heart sinks lower than I thought possible.

He pulls me into his arms. "What do you think?"

"Oh, Edward." There is sadness in my voice.

He pushes me back and I can see the uneasiness in his eyes. "What?"

I pause. I'm not ready to tell him yet.

"What, Bella, what? Is something wrong?" Panic is setting in.

"Can we sit down and talk?" He just looks at me with those big green eyes. I numbly walk towards the French doors and pull them open before heading towards the chairs on the balcony.

As he follows me, the weight of his fear almost brings me to my knees.

"Just tell me…what the fuck? Have you changed your mind?"

My head falls forward as I try to remind myself how I was going to tell him, my face in my hands, and my hair draped like curtains hiding my face.

"Oh my God…what is wrong? Did you meet someone?"

I sit up startled, how could he even think that? This is going downhill fast. I better change the mood or this is certainly going to be a disaster.

No, it's nothing like that. Actually it's good news…great news really."

"Great news?" he asks, not sounding convinced.

"Yes, I got an amazing job offer. It happened late yesterday actually, and I was so shocked that I needed to let it sink in."

"You didn't tell me last night because you needed it to sink in?" I can hear confusion edging his voice. "What kind of job?"

"I know this is going to be hard to believe, but I'm going to be the host for a TV show about artists on ArtOne."

"Host of a TV show, are you serious?" he asks the excitement starting to replace the confusion.

"I know, it's a dream come true for me. I can't believe it's happening."

He jumps up and grabs me swinging me around. "Bella, that is amazing! We have to celebrate!

After he sets me down he steps towards the door. "I'll be right back."

I sit nervously for a couple of minutes, but when he returns I feel an overwhelming rush of hope. He is holding a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes.

"I think this deserves a toast."

"Oh, Edward."

I watch him open the bottle, shooting the cork ceremoniously over the balcony railing. After he pours we raise our glasses.

"To you, Bella, the world will soon know what I've known all along…that you're an extraordinary and beautiful woman of many talents."

I want to enjoy this moment. I smile and take a sip letting the bubbles slide down my throat. "You know this would never have happened if I hadn't met you."

"Maybe, maybe not, but it is happening regardless. Now I will need to share you with the world for a while."

"Just a while," I whisper, hopeful. I slide my chair over closer to him so we can hold hands.

"So tell me more…I want to hear all about it," he encourages.

"Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Wait." He tips his head sideways examining my expression. "Earlier you said it like you've already accepted the job."

"Well, I want to accept it."

"What's stopping you?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about it. There is one challenge to this but we can work it out, I know we can."

I watch the happy expression and color slowly drain from his face.

"What's the challenge?"

I take a deep breath and steel myself. "The show films in New York."

There is a long pause, and I can see the wheels in his head turning.

"Oh, I see. So you'll have to fly into New York for the shoots. You're going to be gone a lot," he says as if he is talking to himself. I watch his expression get very dark, but then he seems to shift, wanting to avoid sinking down into the black hole.

"So when does this start?" he asks.

I take a sharp breath. "They want to start in six weeks."

"Are you serious, six weeks? Do you even have a contract yet?"

"No, they're presenting it next week."

"Hey, so maybe that makes it easier for you to come to Paris with me. If you give notice to Carlisle within the next two weeks it would fit in before you start."

I feel a surge of excitement. "Yes, you're right. That would be so perfect if we could fit that in."

He settles back into his chair, taking sips and looking into the star strewn sky.

"So you said that you found out yesterday. Have you told anyone else?"

Suddenly it is clear that the idea to not tell him first is going to backfire, and I realize in my crazed rush I made a very bad decision. "Um, yes, I talked to Rose last night." I brace myself figuring I may as well get this all out in the open. "And I called your dad this morning to ask if he knew of an entertainment lawyer-agent, but that's all…no one else."

"My dad? You told my fucking dad before you talked to me?"

"Don't feel that way, Edward. I only called him to get a lawyer's name. I really wanted to tell you face to face, and yes, I should have driven out here last night to do that, but I didn't think I was steady enough to make that drive at night. I was unglued last night."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I was worried about how you would take the news, and I didn't want to upset you."

"So you take important information that will have a major affect on our relationship and you share it with Rose and my fucking dad before me? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense."

He pauses and takes a swig of his champagne. I can see his grip is very tight on the glass.

"Is there something else you aren't telling me about this job?"

I may have a relationship death wish, but I just want all the ugly out on the table at once.

"Well, it's a heavy shooting schedule-long hours and many days working straight."

"Of course it is," he replies sarcastically. "They probably want you to give up your life here in L.A. and move to New York so you can be a devoted host-completely available to them."

I am silent, wanting to be anywhere but here in this moment.

His eyes flash, and I see it all compute in his head. "They want you to relocate." He says it like he has just read my verdict from a harrowing trial. His voice is dark and dangerously detached.

I take a deep breath. "Yes."

"So there you go." He slams his glass down, and the champagne slops over the side. I'm amazed it didn't shatter.

His angry expression is not encouraging. "We are so fucked." He pushes his chair back violently as he gets up and leans over the balcony.

"Don't say that, Edward. We can work around this, it's only a year."

He turns back and looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Only a year? Do I need to remind you who you're talking to? I come unsettled when I go three days in a row without you. Goddamn…I just asked you to move in, Bella…not move away."

"Edward…" I jump up and step towards him.

"No," he raises his hand and stops me. "Don't…I don't want to hear it. Fuck it all!"

He furiously paces across the balcony stopping at the door.

"I need some fucking time alone. I'm heading down to the studio. Don't follow me, Bella…I mean it. I don't want to say something I'll regret."

"Okay," I whisper. "I'll wait up here for you."

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After an hour of roaming around cable channels, I decide to sneak a peak into the studio to see what state he is in. I tip toe across the area beyond the front door until I can see in the studio window. I'm not sure what I am expecting, but my heart falls. He is sitting on a stool in front of his canvas with a brush in his hand, but instead of painting, his head has fallen forward into his free hand. He sits motionless, but even from this distance I can feel the agony roll off him. I want so much to go to him, but I am reminded of his warning. He needs this time alone, and I have to respect that. He'll come to me when he's ready.

Later, I wake when the TV is shut off and the bed rocks as he climbs onto it. I must have fallen asleep while waiting for him. I look over at the clock and it's almost two a.m.

He is silent as he stretches out under the covers. I curl up into him resting my head on his shoulder.

"Edward?" I whisper sleepily.

He turns toward me, and in the moonlight I can see the sadness has colored his eyes dark.

I press against him trying warm him up. "I want you to know that I haven't made my mind up about anything. We need to talk this out and figure it out together."

I feel him tense up. His silence is agonizing.

"I love you, and you have to be part of this decision too." I implore.

He still doesn't say anything but responds by pulling me tighter into his arms. I run my fingers cross his chest and gently kiss his neck. My leg is hitched over his hip, and I try to show him with my movements just how much I need him, but his body doesn't respond.

As he holds me close, I realize that he isn't really present…not really. It is so painful because I know what it is to have all of him, and I can't find it in my heart to accept anything less. I swallow my frustration, and I settle into his arms, hoping to connect with him however I can.

.

A seed of fear is planted in my gut and it festers in the dark of sleep so that when I wake up without his arms around me and his side of the bed empty, the fear has dropped roots and broken through the soil's surface to face the harsh light of day.

I lay still for a moment feeling the loss of him, even though I assume he hasn't strayed far. I am tentative as I slowly rise out of bed and pull my clothes on. As I step into the hallway, I listen carefully for his sounds down in the kitchen, but there is only an echo of silence. I figure he has either gone for a run or he's in the studio.

I stop to get some coffee and am surprised to see he hasn't made any. Everything seems different, and for a moment I feel like a stranger in this place that had almost become like home to me. If he intends to make me pay for my impending decision, his plan is working only too well.

When I look towards the studio, I note that although the door is wide open, I don't hear the usual music pumping out of his sound system. I warily cross the grass and step into the studio without hesitation. Whatever I am going to face I just want to get it over with.

My eyes scan the room until I see him hunched over his desk working on a smaller drawing pad. He appears to be making notes next to a sketch. I also realize that he is wearing earbuds and the wire snakes into his pocket.

"Edward."

I see his body freeze for a second and then he slowly turns towards me. His expression is blank as he pulls his earbuds out.

"What?"

He isn't going to make this easy for me. "Do you want breakfast or something?"

"No, I need to work."

Our eyes lock for a moment, and then he puts his earbuds back in and looks down as he starts to continue writing. I head to the kitchen with tears in my eyes.

I get the coffee started and toast some bread, then sit out on the balcony watching the waves move in and out while I eat. I sit there for a long time hoping that he will come join me, but by the time I get up to refill my coffee mug I realize that isn't going to happen.

Feeling stubborn, I make him some toast with jam and coffee prepared the way he likes it and force myself to cross the lawn again.

"I brought you a snack," I announce as I stand in the doorway.

He looks up impassively. "Okay, you can set it over here."

I bring it over to the table and set it down and wait. He pushes it to the back of the table and keeps making notes. I look down to try to decipher what he is working on, and he sits up and closes the book. His gesture makes me feel like I got my hand slapped.

"What's up, Edward? I feel like I'm intruding."

"Well, to be honest, this whole New York thing has really opened my eyes. You deciding to make work your top priority helped me realize that I need to do the same. I've been so focused on you that my work has suffered for it. That is all going to change now. So that's what's up."

"Oh, I see. So you're going to punish me because I was offered a job."

"I'm not punishing you, Bella. I'm working. So if you don't mind I'm going to get back to work now."

"You don't even want me here do you?"

"Well, I'm going to be working all day, so maybe it would be better if you don't stay."

I can't believe this is happening. I'm looking at a stranger. Where did Edward go?

My mouth opens to respond but no words come out. I feel more tears start to well up, so I turn away quickly and head out the door.

I just make it to the guest bathroom before my breakfast comes up. Along with the vomit and tears, fragments of my shattered heart are falling out of me. My worst nightmare has come to fruition. He thinks I'm abandoning him, and he is going to leave me first by shutting me out. It's as if everything has changed overnight. I know we're suddenly, terribly broken, and I'm not sure how to repair the damage.

After I've calmed down, I go upstairs and gather my things. As I cross the lawn with my bag it feels wrong not to say anything to him before I leave, and so I face the studio once more.

I stick my head in the door. "I'm leaving, Edward."

"All right," he responds but I do see his hand tighten over his pencil.

"I have one question; are you breaking up with me? Is that what this is?"

"No, you're the one leaving remember?"

"So you aren't even going to talk to me about it? Help me talk out the decision?"

"You've already made your decision, what's there to talk about?"

"How we could work out a year of being bi-coastal. We could discuss the fact that we love each other and nothing, not even a period of separation, can change that. But if you can't even talk this out with me, then what type of relationship do we have?"

"I don't know what to say, Bella. I don't know what to think anymore. One day you are mine and we are planning our future, and the next day everything has changed. I don't know yet how to wrap my head around that. It's going to take time I guess."

"If you push me away it's going to ruin us. I 'm in love with you, Edward, and I know you love me. Don't I deserve to be treated better than this? I didn't go looking for this job, they came after me, and I'm still in shock and trying to figure out what to do. I need you to help me work this out."

He looks at me as if is trying to decide what to say. The unending silence is a slap in the face.

"Okay, I get the message…never mind. I'm out of here. You can have some more time to process all of this, but I'm not going to give up on us. I'll always fight for us even if you can't."

He looks at me with an empty expression.

"When you're done with your work, call me. I'll be waiting."  
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I tear across the lawn, and once I'm in the car, I speed up the driveway almost taking the security gate with me. I don't know if I am being melodramatic or if this is a true deal-breaking crisis. I just need to get to a safe place and hide from the idea that Edward is falling away from me. I've just crossed a large mine field littered with hidden explosives. And even though I've been able to keep my limbs intact, my heart has been blown apart, and I fear that nothing will ever be the same.

.

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_What would you do if you were Bella?..._

There will be a teaser on the Work of Art forum Wednesday http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

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Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

See you next Saturday...


	52. Chapter 52  The Deal Breaker

_Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art._

_I am so grateful for the help of my beta TwilightZoner and pre-readers CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen_

**_A huge thank you to the fabulous Linda Maine for her terrific review of Work of Art on TwiFicPimps-check it out!. _ http :/bit (dot) ly/eKCvQU (remove space, change dot to .)**

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**Work of Art / Chapter Fifty-Two / The Deal Breaker **

_All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another. ~Anatole France_

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_

I pick up my phone and check to make sure the battery hasn't died. Then I look for new messages and finally check to make sure the ringer is turned all the way up. I have probably gone through this pattern a hundred times today. One hundred reminders that he still hasn't called.

Rose convinced me after I called her in hysterics Saturday to give him a few days, that Edward has a tendency to be dramatic at first and then settle back down to some sense of reason. I try to put my faith in her advice since I don't have much else to hang my hat on right now. She promised to try to talk to him and report back to me. Now I anxiously wait for her call too.

Luckily Alice returns home from San Diego in the late afternoon Sunday and provides a great distraction from my emotional fallout.

"So how was the Comic Convention?" I ask as she drops her bags down on the living room floor.

"You know, as much as I hate to admit it, I had a really good time-a helluva lot more fun than I would've ever imagined."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. The biggest surprise is that those geeks can be really sweet. Some are even kind of hot. If I didn't already have a boyfriend there were several guys I met that I would've gone out with."

"Really? Any of them dressed like Luke Skywalker or Spiderman?"

"Oh please, can someone explain to me why unattractive people insist on dressing up in Super Hero or anime costumes and then parading around a convention like they are _all that_? You wouldn't catch me dead in one of those get-ups and I'm a cute girl. It's downright disturbing at times. And it isn't just the dudes committing a fashion crime against humanity. It's those women, who have scarfed down one too many twinkies and then think it's their right as an American to squeeze themselves into a Wonder Woman bustier and tight little navy panties."

It feels so good to be laughing, and I'm about to comment when her phone's prompt goes off. I can tell from Barry White's _Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Baby_ playing on her ring tone that it's Jasper.

"He can't find parking," she shares after she ends the call. "I'm going to run down and meet him."

I smile at her, relieved not to have to tell my story yet but I'm frustrated too. Part of me just wants to get it over with. She grabs her purse and gives me a hug.

"Are you feeling all right babe? You aren't looking so good."

"I'm okay," I respond, knowing we don't have time to get into it.

"Okay, we will catch up later," she says as she heads out the door.

I curl up on the couch and study my angel painting Edward did for me only months ago. I could have never imagined when he gave that to me how our lives would end up woven together. No matter what happens to us, being with Edward has changed me in every way, and I know I've changed him as well. That very moment my phone goes off. I realize it's a text and seeing it's from Edward, I anxiously open it.

_Rose just left. She told me I needed to contact you._

He contacted me because Rose told him to? I feel kicked in the stomach but I'm hesitant to tell him that I wish that _he_ would have wanted to contact me on his own. I need to get this dialogue open, not shut it down. So instead I keep it simple.

_Rose is right. I've been waiting by the phone._

_She said that she can't stand to watch me fall apart again-that this time I am going to destroy both of us._

I shut my eyes for a moment fighting the despair.

_I wish I knew how to stop this pain, Edward, both yours and mine _

_Me too. I'm in bad shape, Bella._

_What can I do to make this better? _

_I don't know. My crazy thoughts don't stop spinning long enough for me to calm down and think straight._

_Can I call you? _

_No, I'm sorry but I'm not ready for that. _

_Please…I need to talk, not text._

_Bella, if I hear your voice, I think I will go mad._

_But I just desperately need to hear you-to talk to you_

_I'm sorry. I can't handle this. I've got to go._

_Please don't go yet._

As I wait for him I curl inward, fearing I've lost the connection. I wait even longer but he doesn't reply so I text him again.

_Please, Edward, please_

_I'm sorry I'm not handling this better. Maybe I just need time._

_But we can help each other figure this out._

_Cara says I wrapped all my happiness up in you. That not being together will give me a chance to be healthier._

_Fuck Cara._

_No, she also meant so we could be a better couple._

_But we were the best._

_That's what I thought too until Friday night. Now I don't know anything._

_You have to know that I love you with all my heart_

_I'm sorry I can't_

And that is it. _I can't._ I wait and wait but there's nothing else. What did that mean _I can't_? The reality that my boyfriend is not a _normal_ guy who deals with issues in more typical ways has never been more apparent Perhaps I'd taken for granted how much better he'd become and that he was stable enough to handle something like this. I also realize that his emotional dependence on me must be more precarious than I understood. I let the phone slip between my fingers as I curl up and cry.

And I'm almost in the exact same position when Alice returns from her dinner date with Jasper. As soon as I see her I start to cry again, and she grabs a box of Kleenex and makes me a cup of tea before settling into the couch to hear my story.

"What happened, Bella? Jasper said Edward has gone completely off the deep end."

"I think he's done with me."

"What? That's impossible! You came back from Barcelona floating on a love bubble. He told Jasper last week he thought he'd finally convinced you to move in…he was over the moon about it."

"Well, that was before I got a new complicated job offer, and now everything has changed."

I recount it all, the good the bad and the ugly, starting with the amazing opportunity for my dream job. Alice is thrilled for me and doesn't even bring up our roommate situation as I explain the fact that I would have to relocate for a year. Instead we talk about how exiting it will be to live and work in New York.

"As much as I will miss having you here, Bella, now I'll have even more reason to go to New York. Just think…finally the two of us will taste the New York night life together!"

I smile at my Alice, who somehow can make the most difficult situation sound like fun.

"Will you really come visit me?"

"Hell yes! Besides, I'm there on business fairly often, so you'll see me more than you think."

Her promise of visiting me reminds me how I will be away from my entire support system while I'm there, and for the first time I question whether I'll be able to handle the relative isolation. But as I begin to spiral into my thoughts, Alice pulls me out.

"As for Edward, why don't you just ignore his theatrics and pretend that everything is normal. Just get some take out food after work tomorrow and show up at his house. Don't feed into the drama. He has more than enough for the two of you."

I have to admit it never occurred to me to take that tactic-just pretend that everything is fine, that I'm just going on a business trip, but instead of being gone a week, I'll be gone a year. If I'm calm and reassuring it may stop him from spiraling further down. The idea is crazy enough that I think it's worth a try.

..~*~..

Monday morning I ask Carlisle if I can speak to him and Emmett alone. They both patiently wait for me to gather my courage to share my news.

"Carlisle, remember how you talked to me about spreading my wings a couple of weeks ago?"

He smiles warmly and nods.

"Well, it looks like I have the opportunity to take a grand flight much sooner than I ever would have imagined."

"Grand flight?" asks Emmett. "Are you leaving us?" He is composed, hiding his disappointment well.

"I've been offered something unbelievable. It's so crazy I'm not sure I would have even dreamed that it could happen. I've been asked to be a host for a new television show that's been developed called _The Artist Revealed._ It's for that new cable channel ArtOne."

There is a moment of silence where they both looked stunned and try apparently to absorb the surprising news. Carlisle is the first to speak as he rises out of his chair to hug me.

"Bella, that's just wonderful! I'm so proud of you."

I take a deep breath realizing that in my nervousness I'd stopped breathing.

"Thanks, Carlisle." His hug and support is just what I need.

I look up and see Emmett standing next to us waiting. When Carlisle releases me, I fall into his son's arms.

"Can you believe it, Emmett?"

"Sure, I believe it! Oh baby, isn't it wonderful when great things happen to great people."

The three of us sit back down and talk about the job. Neither Carlisle or Emmett are surprised about the New York move. Perhaps with the shock of the announcement of the host offer and the fact that I'll be leaving the gallery, that detail is just one more in the list of dramatic changes.

Instead they focus on the opportunity this presents for me. Carlisle is especially excited to talk about the different artists I'll meet and amazing experiences I'll have. He knows better than anyone that with the world changing so quickly, there are all kinds of possibilities, not just the traditional path, to make a strong career in the art world.

Emmett jumps in with big ideas. "Just think you can develop your own website, put out a book, develop a program with schools…" He is spinning out of control.

My heart sinks when he mentions schools because it makes me think about Edward and his work at the high school, but I try to push it out of my mind.

"Well, I haven't even gotten the contract yet, so let's not make me the Oprah Winfrey of the art world just yet," I tease.

Before we end our meeting and get back to work we agree that I won't tell the rest of the team until the contract is at least close to being signed. Carlisle also agrees to give me continued flexibility with my schedule. As it is, the lawyer that Edward's dad recommended has an opening today at three, so instead of taking a lunch I'm going to meet with him instead.

Now that I've shared the news with Carlisle and Emmett, it feels like life has accelerated to an even crazier speed. But no matter how fast I'm going, their support and encouragement gives me a boost to think I may just be able to not just survive this transition but thrive in it once I convince Edward to support me too.

In the afternoon I tear over to Beverly Hills to meet the man who I hope will be my lawyer. Jackson Carter works at a boutique law firm that specializes in entertainment. From the valet parking to the chic contemporary design of the offices, I feel out of my league, but I take deep breaths as I wait in the reception area. I realize suddenly that I may need to sell myself to Mr. Carter so that he'll want to take me on as a client.

"Mr. Carter," the receptionist nods towards the opening door.

I look up right as a stunning African-American man glides towards me. His face is a perfect combination of elements from his sharp cheekbones and jaw line, to his full mouth and brilliant eyes. He has the most dazzling smile as he reaches his hand out to me.

"You must be Bella."

"Yes," I reply as I rise off the couch and shake his hand. "And you must be Jackson. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine." Edward's dad wasn't kidding. The man is charming all right.

I follow him through the doors noting the way he moves in his Italian suit. He is tall and commanding but younger than I would've expected. I surmise that he's probably in his thirties. He leads me to the sitting area in his office.

His assistant, a leggy redhead, magically appears. "Can I get you a refreshment? Sparkling water or perhaps a cappuccino?"

"Some water would be great, thanks," I reply.

Jackson settles into the chair facing me and crosses his leg. There is an elegance and sophistication in the way he moves.

"I have to tell you, Bella, Masen spoke so highly of you that I was intrigued. He's normally not so effusive. I told him that my client load is currently full but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He's quite taken with you."

I laugh softly. "Yes, well he's very kind. But it isn't what you may think. Actually, I'm involved with his son."

"Hmmm…yes, the artist. Edward Jr. right?"

"Yes." I can't read his expression but I'm anxious to change the subject. "Well, I really appreciate you seeing me on such short notice. The network wants to make this thing happen yesterday."

He smiles. "Typical. But we need to make sure you're taken care of." The way he says it makes me feel protected and less terrified.

"How fast can this happen?"

"Very fast. I know the contract is forthcoming, so if we decide we're a good fit together you could be signed on to be a TV host within a week. I've already researched ArtOne's parent company and they have a good reputation for being fair with their talent. Being that you are brand new to the medium they will low-ball you, but I'm sure there is room to move."

"I don't care so much about the money."

"Oh, but you must. In this business it determines your worth. They go hand in hand. So you can leave that to me. That's the easy part. What is more complicated is the rest of the package…collateral: book deals, appearances, publicity, spin-offs…that type of thing."

I thought Emmett was just being over-excited-apparently not.

"Is that typical for a non-mainstream cable show?""You can't think of it that way. Everything has changed in television. Shows that no one would have very considered mainstream are now big hits with international exposure. Giada De Laurentiis is one of my clients, and she has a huge following. As a matter of fact you remind me of her in a lot of ways. Actually though, your footage out of the gate is much better than hers was. She was so awkward on camera initially, but like you she had that charisma-that spark, and you both are very beautiful women."I smile broadly, appreciating that his tone is professional and not flirtatious. Somehow it gives the idea more weight in my mind. "Thank you. That is such a compliment. I can't believe you work with Giada. I'm a huge fan of hers, and I hardly ever cook!"

"My point exactly," he purrs.

A thought suddenly occurs to me. "Wait a second, you watched my tapes?"

"Of course. I know more about you, Bella, than you realize. I wouldn't be meeting with you now if I didn't do my research to see your possibilities."

Once again I am stunned. So this is how the world spins at the elite levels. It is intimidating yet exciting to be dealing with people at the top of their game.

We talk for a while more, mainly with Jackson asking me what I would like my future to look like and what my concerns may be about doing the show. I explain that I don't want to be away from L.A. for more than a year so that would have to be worked into the contract if the show is picked up for another season. I also tell him that whatever free days can be negotiated so that I can have time in L.A. with Edward is very important to me too.

I ask him questions too, finding out that he is originally from DC, where his mom is a lobbyist and his dad a law professor at Georgetown. He moved to L.A. to go to USC Law School since he'd always been intrigued with the entertainment business. He's beyond impressive.

"Jackson, I'm embarrassed to ask this, but how will I be able to afford you?" I look around the elegant office only imagining what his rate is.

"First of all, Bella, don't ever be embarrassed to ask me anything. Our relationship has to be open and based on mutual trust. You don't have to worry about paying me anything right now as it will be worked out to be a percentage of your deal. It will automatically be deducted from your check. Normally there could have been a retainer that you pay in advance involved, but you are bringing a live deal to us so we'll waive it."

I breathe a sigh of relief and we agree to talk tomorrow. I'll direct Jim's office to forward him the contract. Before we part he gives me a big smile as he shakes my hand.

"This is such an exciting time for you, Bella. I'm really looking forward to working together and making magic for you. We're going to make a great team."

Talk about charisma. Jackson's energy and desire to work with me has me buzzing all the way back to the gallery. It's a relief to actually have a moment of pure excitement about what is happening. The resulting feeling gives me the determination to do what Alice suggested and show up at Edward's with dinner, pretending like our world isn't upside down. I somehow have to turn this around with him, and I'll do whatever it takes.

.

The entire drive to Malibu that evening I force myself to be distracted, thinking about all of the things I need to take care of. As it is, I already have a physical booked tomorrow with a doctor approved by the insurance group of the production company. I guess before they sign on with me they want to make sure I'm not about to keel over with some mysterious life-threatening illness. When I think of the money at stake taping a show, I guess I can understand. I have also been warned that it is difficult and expensive to find housing in New York, so they are going to put me into temporary housing for two months giving me time to find a place. But knowing the schedule, how much time will I have to look?

My mind reels until I realize that I've arrived in Malibu, so I stop at one of Edward's favorites, Nobu, for take-out sushi.

When I pull up to the house I recognize Jasper's car and I hesitate, trying to decide if it is good or bad that he's here. But not wanting to delay the inevitable, I get out of the car and head into the garden. The first thing that hits me is the sound of angry voices coming from the studio. I inch closer, my breath shallow…each movement hesitant.

"You're such an asshole! Do you have any idea how big of an asshole you are?"

Jasper is yelling at him, and I've never heard him raise his voice. It's rather frightening.

"Fuck you, Jasper! You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Maybe not, but I do know that she is crazy in love with you, dude. Don't push her away. She already thinks you don't want her. You keep this bullshit up and it'll seal the deal."

My heart is pounding frantically as I numbly move even closer to them.

"A year will go quickly-it isn't the end of the world. You can go see her, she can come out here, and before you know it the year is over."

"That is easy for you to say. When is the longest Alice has been gone from you? For me just the idea of a week without her is too fucking much. And what about my crazy jealous imagination? I am already going nuts imagining every artist and production person hitting on her while I am a million miles away. You know what it is, Jasper? I feel like she captured my heart, reeled me in, and now she's leaving me high and dry. I don't remember how to get by without her, and I don't have any choice in the matter…I just get to fucking take it or leave it."

"So you are leaving it? That's what you are telling me? So you are choosing to go back to how your life used to be, back to the art whores and vapid life…back to the meaningless misery?"

I hold my breath and every molecule in my body freezes, waiting.

"Maybe I am. 'Cause you know what? During that whole fucking time, all those years, I never felt pain like I'm feeling right now. There's been moments since she told me that I thought I was losing my mind…I don't know, maybe I am. But at this point I 'd rather be numb than have another minute of feeling like I'm being ripped in two."

The Nobu bag slips from my hands and lands on the grass. I curl forward.

"I know, dude, I know," Jasper says in a fatherly voice." But I can tell you that if you give this up you'll regret it the rest of your life."

I hear a sadness in Jasper's voice. I hear something else too, but I can't tell if it is real concern or just frustration.

"I didn't give this up!" Edward suddenly roars. "She did, and I'm not even sure I can survive it. So stop trying to make me think everything is my fucking fault!"

The tears are streaming down my face as I take several steps backwards.

"You've being too damn dramatic, Edward. You've got to talk to her."

"Dramatic? I can't eat, I can't sleep—I'm like a wild animal. What in the hell do you expect from me? I keep wondering if deep down I'm really crazy and Bella made me sane…then I start worrying that maybe she's better off without me. And you think I'm just being fucking dramatic? Get the hell out of here, Jasper."

A moment later Jasper steps out of the doorway and our eyes connect. From the instant flash of concern on his face, he knows I've heard everything. Before he can say anything, I turn quickly and head towards my car. He moves to catch up and by the time I reach my door's handle he grabs me.

"Bella, stop!"

I crumble against my car, the tears now flowing freely.

"He doesn't mean half the shit he just said, he just goes over the top when he is upset. He needs to calm down, and then you'll be able to talk to him, Bella."

I am sobbing and Jasper pulls me into his arms as I try to catch my breath.

"He's not just upset, Jasper, and you and I both know it. He's not going to get over it in the morning." I use my sleeve to wipe my tear strewn face. "The worst part is that even if I turned down the offer tomorrow, this whole thing has tainted what we had. He'll never trust me the same way again…never love me the same way again."

"I don't believe that, Bella, and you shouldn't either. Remember, I've known Edward a long time. He just needs some time. He'll come around."

I shake my head as I step back. "No, he won't. I know he won't." I look towards the garden gate and realize that Edward is a matter of steps away. He's so close, yet he couldn't be further away. "I need to get out of here," I whisper aloud.

I fumble my keys, dropping them twice before getting my car door open. Jasper watches me carefully as I slide in my seat and drop the keys again before getting them in the ignition. Frustrated, I let my head fall forward so my forehead rests on the top of the steering wheel.

"Are you okay to drive?" he asks tentatively. I can feel my shoulders start to shake. I know I shouldn't drive, but I don't want to admit it. Instead I remain silent.

He pulls my door open wider. "Come on, you're coming with me."

"But my car…"

'We'll get it tomorrow."

I quietly cry the entire drive home while Jasper tries to fill the time talking about different artists that I may end up interviewing and neighborhoods he likes in New York. His parents maintain an apartment there that he and Alice can use when they visit me. I know he is trying to be helpful, but the last thing I want to discuss at this moment is New York.

At one point he calls Alice from his headset and warns her in the most abbreviated words possible what has happened and that he's bringing me home.

As we pull up to my building, Alice comes down the stairs and waits for me to get out of the car. She wraps her arm around my shoulder and leads me upstairs with Jasper right behind us. After they get me settled on the couch with a glass of wine, Jasper says his goodbyes and leaves.

Minutes later Alice puts a big pillow on her lap and has me curl up against her so she can run her fingers through my hair. I finally calm enough to quit crying.

"He hates me, Alice. He's going to pretend that I never existed."

"Bella, Bella…you know he doesn't hate you, and he could never pretend such a thing. Please stop saying that. He's just hurting right now."

"What should I do?"

"I still believe what I said earlier. You just need to downplay the drama. Act like you guys will get through this and even have some fun along the way."

"Fun?" I croak. She's got to be kidding.

"Yes, if you're creative you can have lots of fun. You may remember in college I had a long distance relationship, and I think we fried some phone lines with our heavy-duty phone sex. I had sexy photos shot and sent them to him in little care packages. I also made sure the times we did get together were extra special. One time I showed up in his office late Friday with only a trench coat and spike heeled boots on. Damn, we had a good time."

"Oh, I forgot that you had a long distance relationship." I ask hopeful, "I can't remember, did it outlast the separation?"

"No," she admits quietly, probably regretting that she used that as an example. "But we weren't meant to be together like you and Edward are."

I shut my eyes tightly. I keep grasping at straws for a way to believe this can work, and I keep coming up empty handed.

Alice rests her hands, one on my head and one on my shoulder. "Bella, I know you may think I'm crazy and just saying this to make you feel better…but you know how I sometimes have feelings, like premonitions?"

I nod my head feeling the weight of her warm hands holding me.

"Well, I'm not sure how, but I just know this is going to work out with you and Edward. I have the strongest feeling as if I can picture you together in the future. So I'm just asking you to have faith, to not give up. Can you do that for me, Bella?"

My heart lifts to think there is a chance, even if it comes from a source as intangible as this.

"I will try, Alice. I promise, I will try."

.

.

* * *

**_Sometimes canon Alice is just what we need. Let's hope she's right. There will be a shift in the next chapter-what do you want it to be?_**

**_I love hearing from you. Thanks for reviewing…_**

There will be a teaser on the Work of Art forum Wednesday http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

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Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

See you next Saturday...


	53. Chapter 53  The Push and Pull

_Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art._

_A round of applause for the Work of Art team: beta TwilightZoner and pre-readers CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen_

_Thanks to whomever nominated WofA for a Golden Lemon-under the category "Worth the Wait" for voting: http:/www (dot) goldenlemonawards (dot) com/ _

_Also this is the last weekend to vote for the Walk of Fame Awards http:/twinklingswfa (dot) blogspot (dot) com/p/voting (dot) html _

_._

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**Work of Art / Chapter Fifty-Three / The Push and Pull**

_We're going rise from these ashes like a bird aflame, take my hand…we're going to go where we can shine. ~David Gray_

_._

_I push my key into the lock but it doesn't slide in smoothly. Instead it sticks and even though I wiggle it firmly, it doesn't turn. I pull it out and try a few more times before giving up. I ring the doorbell again and again. Damn it all. Why isn't Edward here? He was going to meet me here and help me get my stuff inside._

_Leaving my suitcases by the front door, I walk along the side of the house which is now overgrown like a jungle. Once I am in the back patio I see that the French doors are wide open, the sheer curtains rustling in the breeze._

_I slowly walk through the house, noticing subtle differences. One painting has been replaced with another I've never seen. The couch is a different color and the entryway is now painted a dark gray. I call out his name and there is a soft echo of my voice. After I get the security locks figured out, I pull open the front door and drag my suitcases upstairs one at a time. They are overstuffed and heavy so it requires considerable exertion to accomplish. Again, it would be ever so convenient if Edward were here to help. _

_I flip open the first suitcase and pull out a long white slip dress before opening the closet to get a hangar. What I see stops me in my tracks, and the dress slips through my fingers and puddles on the floor. Not only are all the open spaces Edward made for me in his closet now filled, but the closet is so completely overstuffed with miscellaneous junk you can't even walk inside. Startled, I lean in and attempt to lift some hung shirts off the wardrobe pole to make room, but they are stuck and no matter how hard I pull, they don't move. I try to push some pants over on one of the shelves and the same thing happens…they won't shift an inch._

I sit up in bed with a panicked start. My body is covered with fine layer of sweat, and there's a tremor moving through me. _Bad dream, just a bad dream_, I repeat over and over. But no matter how many times I remind myself, the feeling behind the nightmare still haunts me well into the morning.

..~*~..

Work is rather boring today, which is good and bad. Good in that it gets me even more geared up for my new job-bad because the day drags painfully slowly and gives me extra time to worry about Edward. At least my doctor's appointment will break up the long afternoon. Without going into detail, I tell Jacob that there is a problem with my car and he is fine with loaning me his truck to get to the Century City Medical Tower.

My physical is thorough, everything from an EKG, to urine and blood samples. They even wire me up and have me do a treadmill stress test. I can't help but think that if there were a way to test my emotional stress, I would fail miserably and not be hired. But the most powerful intangible is the very thing that can't be measured on their charts. I am relieved when it is over, and I scurry to the elevator to start my journey back to the gallery.

In the silent hallway I press the elevator button and become impatient as I wait several minutes before one arrives. I step into the car and lean against the back wall hoping we don't have too many stops on the way down. I groan when we stop at the thirty-second floor. _Damn, could this thing go any slower?_ I'm anxious to get back to work.

When the door opens and the new passenger steps inside, I look down to avoid eye contact. I do notice that he has very nice shoes. Suddenly I realize that there is a strange tension in the air.

"Bella." My name is half whispered, and there is pain and hope mixed into the tenor of the voice. _Oh no, I know that voice._

I slowly lift my eyes to find no other than James Alistair in living technicolor before me. I am stunned. We are trapped descending in an elevator for thirty-two floors and what can I conclude but that life is unbelievably cruel? I mean really…what are the odds?

"James." I don't know what to say beyond that. I desperately want to punch the button for the floor we are about to descend to and get the hell off. But if I do that it makes it seem like I am really affected by seeing him, and I can't have that.

"How are you, Bella? Are you well?"

I realize that he may be wondering since I am in the medical tower. Of course, I can wonder the same thing about him.

"Yes, I'm fine. I was actually here to get a physical for my new job."

"Yes, I heard. Congratulations, Bella. This is such an fantastic opportunity for you, and I know you're going to be amazing."

"Thank you." I'm curious. Does he have eyes and ears for every little thing that happens in the art world? I mean, how does he know about my job when I've barely told anyone?

I study him for a moment. He looks much better than last time that I saw him. He even has a tan.

"So why are you here?" The words escape my mouth before I've realized how inappropriate a question that is.

"My psychiatrist's office is here. I just had a session."

"Oh."

"He's helping me get through my divorce."

"Oh." _Too much information, thank you. That's what you get for asking, idiot._ Maybe I should get off now. I can say that I can't wait to use a bathroom.

"I've made a lot of progress."

He's trying to provoke me, and it isn't going to work. I do not want to know that he is getting his personal life together while mine is falling apart. I know it's small of me, but I just can't help it.

"That's good." I reply as I look up at the light panel. We are only at fucking twenty-one. I look down at my shoes. I suppress a groan when the car stops at twenty. An old woman in a wheelchair is backed in by a caregiver. The large man in a medical-aid uniform pushes the button for the sixth floor.

Instead of quieting him, the inclusion of other people near us spurs him on. James has never been one to miss an opportunity. He takes a sharp breath, steps towards me and says softly, "I miss you, Bella. I still miss you terribly."

I look at him dumbfounded as my back presses tightly against the elevator wall. _Eighteen, seventeen…_

"Look, for whatever reason, we were meant to run into each other like this…it gives me a chance to tell you how I feel. I don't want to make you uncomfortable but…"

I cut him off. "Then please don't." I notice the caregiver cock his head towards us.

"But, Bella, I really miss your company. I wish we could at least be friends."

"I don't think so, James. It's not that simple. Besides, I'm moving to New York."

His expression gets dark and unreadable. "What does Edward think about that?"

"I'm not talking to you about Edward." I fold my arms over my chest.

He exhales a deep sigh and lightens his tone. "You know Bella, I'm in New York at least a week every month. There is an amazing John Currin show opening in October at the Whitney. Why don't you let me take you to the pre-opening private party?"

The door opens and the caregiver gives me a wide-eyed, knowing look before he pushes his client out of the elevator.

"That's not a good idea, James."

His face falls. "Okay, maybe not." We remain quiet for the rest of the descent.

Thankfully, the door opens letting us off in the parking garage. We both walk towards the valet. When he speaks up again his voice is more neutral.

"Have you enjoyed working with Nick?"

I stop in my tracks and turn towards him. "I never got a chance to thank you for that, James. I really appreciate that you recommended me to Nick. It's been a great experience working with him."

His expression lightens. "I'm so glad it worked out. He's very impressed with you, but I knew he would be. Has he been too tough on you?"

"Well, tougher than you." I can't help but smiling remembering the way he gently guided me through our project.

"Don't be afraid to stand up to him. He has a lot of bravado but he can be open minded too."

"Okay, thanks for the advice. I hope to still be able to work with him a bit even though I will be busy on the show."

James turns and faces me. "I hope you don't mind me saying this, but I am so proud of you, Bella. You have risen to all the potential I saw within you from the beginning." He pauses as if he wants to say something but stops himself. He sighs and then continues. "I hope you know that I wish you all the best." He reaches out and squeezes my hand. It feels really weird but I'm just grateful that he didn't try to hug me.

"Thanks, James. I appreciate it." I step forward and hand my ticket to the valet.

He pulls out his valet ticket. "Well, please let me know if I can be of any help. I know all kinds of real estate people in New York. It can be brutal finding a place if you don't use the right people. You know, come to think of it, a one bedroom just opened up in my building. I could put in a good word at the co-op board. "

"James…" I moan.

"Okay, okay," he insists, smiling sheepishly as he pushes his sleeves up. "But you have my cell number, Bella. Please call me if you need anything at all."

Jake's truck pulls up, providing my escape. "Thanks, James." I pause and look at him, and in that moment, what I remember is how he always took the time to look out for me and make me feel special. There was a side to James that was pretty wonderful, and it is nice to remember that after all the fury. "Take care, all right?"

He gives me a warm smile before I pull away.

..~*~..

"How many floors?"

"Thirty-two. I wanted to die when I realized it was him."

"Oh baby, how awkward," Alice commiserates.

We are on our way to Malibu because clearly my life doesn't have enough drama.

"He even asked if we could be friends."

"You mean friends with kinky benefits," Alice huffs. "Like that guy could actually last through one evening without trying to get into your pants."

"My LaPerla pants," I add. I'm sure she's right…not like I would give him the chance to find out.

We lapse into silence while I imagine what Edward would think if he knew I had been trapped in an elevator with James.

"Thanks for driving me all the way out here, Alice."

"No worries…you'd do it for me, bb. That's what friends are for."

"Is Jasper sure that he isn't going to be there?"

"Yeah, when he called Edward last night to tell him why your car was there he warned him not to talk to you until he got a grip. I think he had a double session booked with his shrink today, and then he is supposed to attend some type of function this evening at one of the galleries in Bergamont Station."

I feel a sharp pain shoot through me. Our lives have never felt so separate. I look out the window and watch the waves roll towards the store. I notice a couple walking hand and hand across the sand and I turn away.

As Alice winds her car down the private road off the highway, I note that Edward's house looks dark. She pulls up next to my car and I feel a wave of panic. Somehow knowing that my car was here left a warped connection to Edward. When I pull out of his driveway, it will be one more way that we are no longer together. I grit my teeth and fight back my tears as I step out of the car.

"Are you okay?" she asks, sensing my emotional collapse.

"Yeah, I'm tough," I try to reassure her as I move toward my car. "Thanks, Alice."

"Okay, I'm off to Jasper's, but if you need anything at all, to talk or whatever, just call me."

She smiles, and once I'm in my car's seat and the engine fires, she backs up and heads up the road. I am about to follow her when a movement catches my eye. My eyes scan the scene before me to no avail, but then when my vision lifts higher I see something. I squint; the darkness is falling and I can't be sure, but I could swear that I see Edward in the upstairs bedroom window watching me. It is so dark that I would have missed him if it weren't for a dim light behind him, rendering his silhouette.

"Edward," I whisper as I turn the key, shutting off my ignition.

I sit for a moment silently watching him, but he doesn't move an inch. He is frozen in place, and if I didn't see the glint of his eyes blinking I would think he was a statue.

My heart thunders in my chest, but my instincts can't be denied. I push my way out of my car, and with each step through the garden my resolve strengthens. I am going to find him, and when I do I won't leave until he gives me something to hope for when all hope seems lost.

When I grab the handle to his front door, it is locked and unmovable. But unlike the scenario in my nightmare, my keys open it easily. I step into the darkened foyer.

"Edward," I call out. "Edward…"

Blinding silence surrounds me as I step further inside. Perhaps he can't hear me all the way upstairs. But if he was watching, surely he knows I'm coming in.

I take the stairs two at a time and rush down the hallway until I face his bedroom door. I take a deep breath and push it open.

His voice hits me like I've slammed into a brick wall. "Don't come in here, Bella!"

I freeze, my fear letting his words control me._ He wants me to leave. He doesn't want me here. _But as I start to falter, my determined inner-bitch slaps my defeated wimp aside. _Fuck him. I'm not leaving_. I take three long strides until I am well into his lair.

"I told you not to come in," he groans with exasperation.

"Why can't I come in, and what is with this dramatic shit? Why are you watching me creepy-like from the window, and why is the house dark?" Another question hits me. "Hey, where's your car?" I'm angry and it feels good.

"In the garage," he says quietly with his eyes focused on the floor. "I didn't want you to know that I was home. I don't want you to see me like this."

"Well, too bad…here I am, and I'm not leaving until we've talked about what's going on. I can't just keep waiting to hear from you. Do you even care what you're doing to me?" My legs are shaking, but my voice is strong and clear.

I see his hands tighten over the clothes in his arms. His lips make a straight long line as they purse together in frustration. It suddenly occurs to me that his bedroom has changed, and as my eyes wander from one corner to the other, my chest tightens. It's as if his closet exploded; clothes and shoes are tossed across every surface and scattered all over the floor.

"What's this?" I ask, sweeping my hand across the mess.

"Cara told me that if I put my closet back together it would be a step in my healing."

"And this is you putting it back together? It's not going so well-looks like you could use some help."

He stands silently, watching me like I am a stranger in his home. The lost look on his face softens my temper.

"So, what are you healing from?" I know the answer, but I want to hear it fall from his lips.

"The fact that you're leaving me."

I look down and see the beautiful tux that he wore in Barcelona crumpled up on the floor. I walk over and lift it by the hanger, brush it off, and carry it into the near empty closet. I ceremoniously hang it up and step back out while calculating my next move. I decide to go for broke.

"So, see this section?" I point towards an area of the closet. "Can you keep this open for when I stay with you? And then when I'm done with filming and I move in, I want the rest of my space back. But meanwhile, if it will make you feel better to put your stuff back, I understand." I take a pile of sweaters and carry them in, carefully setting them on a shelf on the far end.

"When you stay with me?" He repeats my line awkwardly, like he is a foreigner just learning our language.

"Of course, yes. I'm going to be here as much as humanly possible. I'm not leaving you, Edward…do you really think I am going to let you push me away because I want to take this great job opportunity? Seriously?"

He just stands there stunned, his fists clenched.

I take another step, standing a foot away as I speak softly.

"I am never giving up on us, Edward. I just need to make you understand that this can work. You are mine, I am yours, remember? I know you're horribly upset about the New York move, but we have our entire life together to consider, not just the next twelve months."

He closes his eyes as if he's in pain.

I step even closer.

"Are you really done with me, Edward? You're going to give up on us that easily? Don't you think this is worth fighting for?"

"Fuck, Bella!" He tears his hands through his hair. He's losing his grip, but at this point, agitated Edward is preferable to the vacant automaton I've been talking to.

"What? What?" I'm equally frustrated, but I'm not backing down.

"Of course you're worth fighting for. Just tell me what to fight and I'll beat it down, blow by blow. But this is intangible, like I'm fighting shadows. You know how I get, Bella, no matter how hard I struggle. I'm a crazy fuck, and just the idea of you living in another city, building a new life where I'm on the outside edge, is killing me, one paranoid thought at a time."

"Edward…" I reach out to him.

"And I've tried to convince myself to follow you there, but I've already had three full-blown panic attacks just over the idea of it. The peacefulness and constancy of this place is what helps me through the stress when I leave here. I'm so afraid I'd go nuts in New York."

"But Edward, if you stay here and I go, it doesn't mean we can't stay together as a couple."

"But the way you've handled this, all I've been able to think is that I don't matter."

"God no, I'd never want you to feel that way. I must be an idiot because I just assumed that I could have it all. I knew it would be hard, but it never occurred to me that you wouldn't be willing or able to wait for me."

He holds up his hands. "Every time I convince myself I can get through the year, every time Cara goes over with me how it can work, the hope sparks up in me…but then my mind starts to reel with fears, and I'm worse off than when I started. It feels like everything is ruined."

_Ruined_

His words are a kick in the gut. "Ruined? Really? So what the hell, Edward…the solution is to push me away?"

"Maybe," he says softly, without an ounce of conviction behind the words.

"And what about the thread that holds us together and always pulls me towards you? Even now as angry and disappointed as I am with you, even with you not wanting to see me, it is taking everything I have not to grab you and never let go."

"Bella, don't." He's white as a ghost.

"So you don't feel it anymore, is that what you're telling me?"

He's silent, his mouth pressed shut and his eyes closed.

I hesitate with a risky idea echoing in my head before deciding it's worth a try.

"Why don't you let me kiss you just so you know for sure?"

His eyes suddenly open wide, remembering the moment after Ojai when he challenged me to kiss him to see if we still had the magic between us. I have him…he can't deny me and he knows it. I can sense he's lost his will to fight.

Never letting my eyes fall from his, I pull the clothes from his hands and let them drop to the floor. My hands move up to gently frame his face, moving towards him slowly as the electricity sizzles between us-the silent sparks of fire lighting up the darkened room.

My lips skim his as I pause, desperately hungry but determined to make my intentions clear. "I love you," I sigh, pushing the words into his parted, waiting lips. "You are everything to me, Edward, and I'm never letting you go."

He doesn't fight me as my lips press into his. I feel a jolt from my overpowering want, and then the weight of my regret for unintentionally hurting him. My fingers run across his scalp and weave through his thick hair. I pull him closer, running my hands across his chest and over his shoulders. I feel him letting his guard down, and when he finally kisses me back my heart starts to beat again.

"Edward," I whisper with longing in my voice as he pulls back and looks at me intently. His skin is flushed, but his expression reflects adoration edged with sadness.

"The problem is that I don't remember how I lived without you, Bella. What am I supposed to do about that when you leave?"

I feel tears well up and spill across my cheeks. "Edward, can't you just try it before you give up on us? There are phone calls, email and texts. I will come here and you will go there." I reach over, resting my hands on his chest. He is watching the trail of my tears as he considers what I'm saying. "Think of how fast a year passes. Please, can't you try?" I beg.

"A year, a whole year," he groans.

"You know what? You are making me feel like I'm not worth waiting for. If it were you, I would wait…I swear I would."

He looks stunned. "Not worth it? Oh baby, don't ever say that."

I look up at him, and in a single moment it's if he's cracked a hole in his protective shell and is pushing his way out. As he finally opens up to me, he is a speeding train and I am standing in the middle of his tracks. He powerfully lifts me up in his embrace, his words of regret and desperate need jumble together, while our hands frantically grasp and pull. He passionately kisses me with love and tenderness and hope flares brightly.

Lowering us to the bed, he pulls me tightly against him, front to front, lying on our sides. My heart is pounding as I feel the heated connection everywhere his body touches mine. I have missed this feeling so desperately that I am drunk now with the sensation of it. All I can do is press tighter into him and pray that he never lets me go.

"I'm such an ass," he moans as he gently strokes my cheek.

"Yes, you are. If I didn't love you so much, I swear…"

"I'm sorry, Bella, that I've put you through this…so sorry," he whispers in a broken voice. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm ashamed for how I freaked out and shut down. Sometimes I don't understand what the fuck is wrong with me. I'm so proud of you getting this job, and I don't want to ruin this for you."

I still and listen to him but don't respond right away. We both hold on to the silence like a box we can fill with all the words we hope to hear.

Finally my heart speaks. "No, it doesn't make me feel any better." I tilt my head up and look him in the eye. "We have both made mistakes here. I should have told you everything first. And it was really wrong that I didn't stop and consider everything before I surged ahead when I got the offer. You abandoned me out of fear without even trying to figure things out with me. We need to be better than this, much better."

He gingerly slides his fingers through my hair, then down my back, pulling me closer still. "I want to be better, baby. I don't want to lose you." He takes a deep breath. "I can't lose you."

I fist my hands over his chest and twist up his T-shirt. "Then fight for me, damn it. Don't just give up. Don't ever do that to me again."

"I promise. And you've got to promise to always come to me first before you jump in and make decisions that affect both of us. I want you to make me feel like I matter."

"I promise," I whisper softly. "It breaks me to think I made you feel like you didn't matter. You are the man I want to spend my life with, Edward. I never have imagined I could love anyone this much."

I shiver as he runs his fingers along my inner arm. Winding his fingers through mine, he lifts our hands and gently kisses mine.

"You are really something, woman," he says softly. "I don't know if deserve you, but I want you so much."

"Whether we deserve each other or not, you've got me." I smile and pull him closer.

I want his weight on me, but instead he inches towards me and slowly trails kisses over my cheek, across my forehead and down my nose. I lay still for him, my heart aching. There is so much love in every touch, but there is a searching too, as if he is still looking for answers that my words won't give him. If only he could see in my heart, any fear he has would fade away.

I return the gesture, but I start by grazing his chin with my teeth and then feathering my lips along his cheekbone and down his neck. He moans softly, so I lift up to look at him and smile. He presses his forehead against mine.

"Can I kiss you, Bella?" he whispers.

"Please…" I sigh.

Oh, and the feeling of his lips against mine-all warmth and softness, liquid love pouring through me, washing all the pain away. I kiss him back gently but with an edge of fire. I feel his heart pounding close to mine. Then before we pull apart, he gives me the kind of kiss that wipes out all reason so that sheer desire is all that remains.

_Oh my God._ I would give anything to hold onto this feeling. We still, each holding our breath.

He lifts up on his elbows and gently brushes the hair out of my eyes as he looks at me with an intensity that tears through me. I hold his gaze, waiting. His eyes roam over my cheeks and lips, then back to my eyes. He lets out a deep sigh.

"I love you, Bella."

Somehow by struggling up this mountain we are finally able to speak our deepest truth.

"I love you too."

He looks so earnest, so determined.

"I want you to follow your dreams, baby, so I'll try to make this long distance thing work. Please be patient with me, and I'll try my best."

"That's all I can ask, Edward. And just hearing you say it makes me love you even more."

We continue to simply lie together, kissing and cuddling as we reconnect. It's amazing to watch him as if he's coming to life under my fingertips. It feels like my old Edward is returning to me.

It reminds me of the happy times just before this conflict, when our lives were unbound. Now I must face all the mystery of this man that sometimes confounds me. I desperately hope we'll be able to keep our hearts and minds open-like we are in this moment-so that we can make it all work.

We end up spooning, with him holding me tightly from behind, his head hooked above mine. We lay silently for a minute before he finally speaks again.

"I feel hope again, Bella. Thanks for being brave enough to stay." He runs his nose into my hair and kisses my head.

"I _am_ brave. You're daunting at times. But this is so worth staying for."

"Mmmmm," he sighs.

I push back into him just for the feel of it. "You know what that challenge kiss told me?"

"I can only imagine," he says softly, his voice heavy with satisfaction.

"It told me that you aren't over me yet. I think you still have a thing for me, Mr. Masen."

"Yeah, what was your first clue?"

"The look you gave me after the kiss."

"So all it took was a look? I'm that easy?"

"Well, there is nothing easy about you mister, but I would say it was telling."

"Okay, then what did it tell you?"

"That you really, truly love me."

He pulls me tighter still. "I do, baby. With every last bit of this broken, ragged heart."

His words twist me up inside, but when I roll over to face him I smile, trying to keep it light and playful. "I can see I have my work cut out for me. This is going to be a big job."

"Another job? God help me. What's this one?"

"Mending your broken heart."

"Well, you're off to good start." He kisses me and trails his fingers up across my belly until his hand moves over my shirt, caressing my breast.

"I think I'm going to take on a job too. I've just created a new position for myself."

"And what would that be, Mr. Masen?"

"Under the Sex God category I'll be Senior Manager of Manipulation." His fingers start to gently pull on my nipple.

"Oh do tell…shall I assume I'm reporting to you?"

"Yes, and your first assignment will be to submit as I use my considerable love making skills to convince you to stay with me even if someone in New York tries to lure you away."

As much as he is joking, I know that this is his heart speaking as we bask in our afterglow. I ache but decide to play along and not ruin the tenuous progress we have just made.

He unbuttons my shirt and pulls my bra down. Just the look in his eyes fills me with fire.

"Oh, your skills, your mad skills…" I moan as he circles his tongue over my nipple. I can feel his arousal pressed against my hip.

"Now pay attention," he teases as he runs his hand up my inner thigh. "A demonstration is about to begin."

.

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_**How do you feel about the progress they made?... I love hearing from you...**_

There will be a teaser on the Work of Art forum Wednesday http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

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Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

See you next Saturday...


	54. Chapter 54  We Are Stars

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.

Thanks so much to my beta TwilightZoner and my pre-readers CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen. I'm so grateful for your help..

_**A number of you have asked how many chapters are left in Work of Art. I just finished writing 60-the final chapter, and am working on the epilogue. *sigh* I will miss sharing these two with all of you when it is over.  
**_

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**Work of Art / Chapter Fifty-Four / We are Stars**

_Coloring inside the lines can be highly overrated. ~Farkle_

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As the early morning sun peeks into his window, my eyes skim over my beautiful man. I say a silent thanks to the sheet that has wiggled its way off, leaving Edward gloriously naked. As he lies fast asleep on his stomach, I have to restrain myself from running my hands over his perfect ass and strong thighs. But I 'm going to have to leave soon to get home, shower, change, and still get to work on time.

Despite my efforts not to disturb him, when I lift out of bed his eyes pop open. "Where are you going?" he grumbles.

I turn back toward him, running my hand across his back. "I have to leave, baby. I've got to be at work in two hours, and the drive into town will be brutal."

"Drive back now? To hell with that-just call in sick and come back to bed." He gives me a lazy, sexy smile as he burrows his head into his pillow and reaches out for me. This isn't helping my resolve.

"I can't call in sick when I'm only going to be working there a few more weeks. They need me to be there." I start to pull my clothes on.

"I need you here." He pouts.

"Edward." I give him my exasperated look.

"Okay, okay."

"I know, why don't you come over to my place tonight? I think I need some more training."

"You have a deal." He smiles. "I'll have my people call yours."

"Yeah, yeah…always the big talker. Just for that I'll be expecting multiple demonstrations." I lean over and kiss him. "Call me later?" I whisper in his ear.

He nods and winks.

"And clean up this mess!" I chant as I head out the door.

..~*~..

Jackson calls just after lunch to tell me that he has made good progress on my contract. They have agreed to a three-day weekend twice a month which will leave enough time for me to come to L.A. I have all holidays off, including two weeks when production shuts down around Christmas and New Year's. They have also agreed that the New York contingency will only apply to the first year in which we are actually shooting two seasons of episodes. After that they would prefer to feature artists out of New York anyway. Finally, when Jackson tells me what he has negotiated for my salary, I almost fall out of my chair. It may not be a lot by Hollywood standards, but it is certainly more money that I ever thought I'd earn in my lifetime.

"I think it's time to give your boss notice, Bella. Congratulations, my dear-you are soon to be a star."

I thank Jackson profusely and hang up feeling optimistic. If I can fly to L.A. at least once a month and if Edward can come see me as frequently, then our separation doesn't sound completely horrible. Meanwhile, this crazy fantasy is actually going to become a reality.

..~*~..

That evening as I lay in my man's arms, I explain all of the contract details to him and he listens patiently, relaxed from our ardent lovemaking.

"And if you come see me once a month, then we will be together twice a month. That's almost as much as we see each other now."

He gives me an exasperated look. "No, it's not," he argues. "Besides, once you get into production, there will be all sorts of reasons why you have to keep working. Between my dad and the friends I've had in the business, I know all about the huge gap between what they say and then what's actually expected-what happens. Before you know it, you can never make it home."

"I won't let that happen."

"You won't be able to control it, baby. And then here I am all pent up, waiting for you. It'll be frustrating. I'm not used to having to restrain myself that long."

I pull away from him angrily. I can't believe he pulled out the horny man card. My inner cheerleader falls to her knees because this is the very thing I've feared all along. With women circling him like buzzards searching for fresh prey, can he keep his cock in his pants while I'm a world away from him? Well, he just made it clear that his self-restraint is unlikely.

I can't hold back my anger. "So you need sex so badly that you will need to do other women while I am gone? Really? I heard what you said to Jasper that night about going back to the art whores. Can you imagine how that made me feel?"

"Damn it, you know I didn't mean it. I was foaming at the mouth that night. But you are in denial if you think this isn't a big issue we'll need to work on."

"Your insatiable desire is a big issue?"

"And yours…what about you, Bella? You're way more passionate and sexual than you give yourself credit for. You're going to be spending long hours with guys like your buddy, Zach the camera man, who was practically undressing you with his eyes right in front of me. Hell, you will be with some very hot artists for days at a time. You will be pursued aggressively, and can you really promise that in a weak moment you won't slip?"

"Weak moment? Is that all you give me credit for? You're talking about yourself, damn it."

"You worry about me but you haven't experienced yet how intoxicating fame is. People will do anything to please you and sometimes you just let them because your resistance gets worn down or you're tired of being alone."

"Don't fucking treat me like I can't keep my legs closed. Remember, I've seen you with your art whores so I know what you're capable of. I haven't even thought of another man since we became involved. Can you say the same with other women?"

The anger in his expression scares me. "Oh, you're right, Bella. I wake up every morning with a raging hard on with other women on my mind. I stroke myself while I think about fucking Irina, and Cassie sucking me off because she is unbelievably good at that. And when I shower I jerk off thinking about how I'm going to fuck Bibi while her girlfriend Stacey has her tits in my face. As for you, my girlfriend, you are just a big pussy with legs at my easy disposal. And now you're going to be a big pussy in New York, so I'm just going to find a bunch of other pussies to sink into."

My rage can't be contained. "That is so nasty. Why do you react to everything like a child? I swear, if you're going to talk to me like that then you need a fucking time out!" I growl, pointing towards the living room. "Go sit on the naughty chair until you can behave better!"

He jerks out of bed and the air is thick with anger as he pulls on his clothes and grabs his keys and wallet off the nightstand.

"You think I'm acting like a child? You better not pull this shit when you're in New York," he snarls. "I'll tell you what, _Supernanny_, I'm doing a time out alright, before I say something even worse. We'll discuss this in the morning after you've calmed down."

"After I've calmed down?" I yell after him as he storms down the hall.

When he slams the door behind him I lie stunned on the bed, my chest heaving with fury. I yell out a string of expletives determining that if all he cares about is who he's going to screw next, than maybe I'm better off without him. As passionately as I yell in the empty apartment, I know I don't mean it, but the release feels good. This rant goes on and on until I have listened to Alanis Morissette's, _You Oughta Know_ on replay about twelve times and I'm well into my second glass of wine.

I keep replaying the ridiculous argument in my head. Finally, with the fire burned out of me, I calm enough to turn my anger inward. Why did I have to immediately go off the handle when he just wanted to have a straightforward talk about the challenges ahead of us? My fucking insecurity blew things out of proportion when we'd finally made some progress. We'll never make it through the year I'm away if I don't get a handle on my trust issues. After all, he hasn't done anything since we became a couple to justify my lack of faith in him.

Drained and unsteady I start to set my wine glass on my bedside table and I see my charm bracelet. The shift in my mood is startling. One minute I'm scheming to cut the crotches out of all his boxer shorts, and the next I'm clinging to my special gift and sobbing. Obviously I need therapy just as much as he does. I decide to get Cara's number so I can call her for a reference.

I pick up my phone but realizing that Edward is probably in the studio, I send a long text.

_I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have gone off like that. I'm having trouble with all these changes too, and I need to get a handle on things. I don't want to make things worse for us. Can Cara give me a reference? I know I need help too._

I crawl in bed and pull my blankets up to my chin. My pillow is wet and my face swollen before sleep finally quiets me.

.

I'm still a mess when I wake up, but a determined mess. After a long hot shower I feel human again, and I check my phone to find his reply waiting. He sent it at 1:15 a.m.

_Thanks for saying you're sorry, baby. I'm really sorry too for the pussy speech. You know I don't ever want anyone but you. _

There is a second text he sent immediately after_. _

_We can't waste our time left having stupid fights like this. I'll contact you late morning after my appointment to talk more._

I love it when Edward is the sane one. My relief is staggering despite my pounding headache and ravaged nerves.

Mid-morning I get another text from him.

_Cara said you can call her either at 2 or 5 today to talk and get some names. _

I reply immediately.

_Thanks for that. I hope I can learn how to handle things better._

_Yeah, girlfriend, that makes two of us…that argument was just every kind of wrong last night. We need to figure out a way to stay calm when we have a conflict._

Wow-Edward is the one saying we need to be calm? That's a switch. I think for a moment before I respond.

_Yes, and we need to come up with ways to support each other not just accuse each other of what might happen._

_I have the solution….stay, Bella. I promise I will make you glad you did._

_Damn it all, Edward. Don't taunt me._

_Stay_

_Oh, so that's the only way, cowboy?_

_I will marry you, I will give you everything…we will make beautiful babies and live happily ever after. Stay with me._

_You are a selfish man you know._

_Yes, but I know what I want and I'm not giving up until I get it._

Something about this talk shakes me to my core. I respond with abandon.

_Damn, I'm such a mess. Why is this talk of babies and marriage making me want you?_

_Because you are starting to understand just how much I want you_

_No, I mean the other kind of want_

I can picture his face as he types the next reply. _The lusting kind of want?_

_Yes, I'm ravenous, damn it_

_Are you wet? Because I'm getting so hard for you right now._

_Yes, I'm wet and wound up and I'm here at work._

I can almost feel the hunger in his next text. _I need you so much, baby. Do you need me?_

My heart is thundering as I type and hit send. _Desperately. How soon can you get here?_

_Meet me in your apartment at noon. I'm on my way._

It's frankly amazing that I don't have an accident on the way home with my thighs quivering and my mind imagining Edward on top of me, not what's happening on the road. But along with the visuals there's a chatty little broad on my shoulder whispering in my ear that I've lost my mind. I know I'm under tremendous strain with all of the impending life changes, but this kind of relationship drama is just not healthy. Edward seems to be getting himself together while I'm falling apart.

As I pull up to my apartment, Edward pulls up the other direction and quickly parks across the street. I don't say a word and he silently shadows me, following a step behind as we climb the stairs. Even though I can't see him, I can feel his energy pulsing past me. I'm certain that what ever happens once we're inside my place is not going to be easy-going or casual.

When I get to the top landing and slide my key in the door he is right up behind me, his hot breath on my neck. I'm completely aroused. I almost drop my purse and grab him, but I chant to myself, _get in the house…get in the house._

The moment the door closes he's on me and he's taking no prisoners. His mouth consumes me as we slam against the door, his hips pushing his arousal against me. I try to push out of my mind how crazy we are acting as I run my hands over him, but I finally step away.

"What are we doing?" I gasp, trying to catch my breath.

"Hell, I don't know. I lost my mind last Friday so I'm just going along for the ride at this point." He studies me carefully for a long moment. "I suppose I'm trying to get as much of you as I can before you move to New York." He leans in and bites me at the nape of my neck and grinds against me.

His words put a crazy visual in my head and I laugh quietly. This time he pulls away.

"May I ask what in all this mess is funny?"

"Are you storing up your moments with me, the way a squirrel stores nuts for the winter?"

"I suppose you could put it that way. Nuts, huh?"

He starts to slowly unbutton my blouse before pulling it apart and off my shoulders. Running his fingertips along the edge of my sheer bra he slowly lowers it down, freeing my breasts.

"See, I'm going to miss these terribly so I need to take my time with them." He reaches down and pulls a nipple into his mouth, teasing me with his tongue. Lacing my fingers through his hair, I pull him closer to me, aching with want as I feel his teeth skim the sensitive skin.

"Good?" he asks as his tongue circles the peak.

"So good." My back arches as he sucks hard, and I can feel the arousal all the way down to my toes.

"So perfect," he moans as he cups his hands around each breast squeezing as his thumbs drags across the nipples.

I love watching the primal way he reacts to my breasts. The instinctive urge to have his lips wrapped around the nipples, the hunger to suck until I beg him for more.

I reach down and slowly pull his jeans open before dipping my hand inside to wrap around his arousal.

"This is what I'm going to miss," I sigh. "If only it was detachable, then I could take it with me." My grip tightens on him as he thrusts into my hand.

"Well, hopefully that wouldn't be satisfying without the rest of me attached." He's laughing as takes my earlobe between his teeth and gently bites.

"Yeah, but it would sure keep you in line if I had it with me."

He freezes and my stomach drops, realizing that I have stepped over the line yet again. Luckily he stays calm as he pushes me away and looks me in the eye.

"Bella, do you really believe that I am going to start sleeping with other women the minute you're gone? Do you have so little faith in me?"

I can't believe I messed up our hot moment, and I feel the sting of disappointment shoot through my system.

"I want to have faith in you. It just didn't help when you talked about what a sexual person you are and that you always need to be satisfied. I guess I still can't seem to shake your threat about the art whores either."

"I need _you_ to satisfy me baby. That's what I meant when I brought up my needs, and we already went over the art whore mad ranting. I'm not going to fuck around with other women. Look, I'm not going to lie, it will be one of the biggest struggles of you being gone-the constant craving I have for you can overwhelm me. But I know no one else will satisfy that craving. I know that without a doubt. And I won't put myself be in the position where I would cheat."

I raise an eyebrow.

"You don't believe me."

"I really want to believe you."

"Does that make me feel any better about my freaking concern about you off in New York? You will be in those positions every day while I am here alone working in my studio."

I reach up and take his face in my hands. "Edward, I promise you that I won't be with anyone but you. There won't be any secrets. I will tell you everything that happens, even if I find myself attracted to someone else. But like you, I will avoid putting myself in risky situations."

He grits his teeth and his eyes wedge shut.

"Complete honesty, it's the only way. We're both human-we're going to be attracted to other people in life; the thing is not acting on it. So we'll be talking all the time and always keeping the connection strong."

He opens his eyes, and I watch the pain in his expression shift to one of resolve.

"Yes, I promise. I'll tell you everything. Every fucked up crazy thought in my head as long as you promise to come back to me."

"I promise, my love, I promise."

I look up at him and step closer. "I ruined our fun today, didn't I? You probably don't even want to get naked with me now." I fight to keep myself from pouting.

"Well, I don't know. I could probably still be persuaded," he teases, his expression playful as he folds his arms over his chest.

I gently pry his arms apart and lean in, trailing kisses down his neck as I start unbuttoning his denim shirt. "Well, let's see how persuasive I can be since I've just had this image in my head all morning of you naked and hard, stretched across my bed." I pull his shirt open and lick along his chest until I have his nipple in my mouth. My tongue teases and I bite him as his head falls back.

"How hard?" he moans as I move to the other nipple and suck with purpose.

"Oh, really, really hard," I hiss, my teeth still biting.

"Is this what you had in mind?" he asks as he presses my hand over his erection that is fighting to get out of his jeans.

"Yeah, that's definitely what I had in mind," I whisper.

.

This time when he carries me to the bedroom we make love slowly in the bright noon light from my open windows. Beautifully naked, he is rendered in hot highlights and dark cast shadows making his beard stubble and every muscle exaggeratedly dimensional. I crave the softer light of a Robert Mapplethorpe photograph, ethereal and clean, yet there is truth in this harsh spotlight.

He pulls me on top of him, and with his strong hands firmly on my hips, guides me in our passionate dance over the sheets. Our eyes are fixed on each other, looking past the hurt and anger, directly towards the truth we hold inside.

In the height of the passion he rolls us over so that he's on top of me. I'm hungry to relinquish control and feel his weight, his strength and purpose in each thrust. At times he senses my needs so acutely that the softest touch can make me shimmer into an arc of pleasure. As I feel his climax approaching and begin to crash into mine, I hold onto him knowing I'll never let him go. For the first time in this messed up, exhilarating, and emotionally terrifying drama, I feel certain that we will make it through. There's just no other choice.

Later that afternoon as I relive those moments, it's his expression that stands out the most. We were both raw and hungry from our complicated discourse, so I welcomed every thrust, every caress that he passionately gave me. But it was the intense look of love in his eyes that truly took my breath away.

..~*~..

"Okay, now you're getting somewhere," Emmett says, nodding towards Rose. "Don't you think Rose?" We're in Rose's kitchen setting up a mini-taco bar for dinner.

"Yeah, I think he's coming around," she agrees. "I mean, fuck-he was ready to jump off a cliff the first couple of days, and then today he called excited to tell me that Jet Blue flew out of LAX non-stop to New York and the flights are cheap."

My heart does a cartwheel. Edward really is coming around.

"But, you guys, while I'm gone, I'm going to need your help keeping the art whores at bay," I insist.

Rose rolls her eyes. "Baby, you're giving him no credit. I mean, I know more about his past than I'd like to, but he's all about you twenty-four, seven now. He isn't going to fuck around on you because he knows it would mean losing you for good."

"He _would_ lose me for good if he fucks around," I agree firmly. "But we have pledged to be faithful, and I'm going to trust him. I just know the more he can avoid them the happier he will be."

"Okay, if it makes you feel better I will look out for him at all the events we go to. That is where the bitches will most likely descend with you gone."

"Thanks, Rose."

"Oh, before I forget," Emmett interjects. "Ted said he's friends with a realtor in New York who's great and totally plugged in. He can help you find a cool place."

"That's great. As long as it isn't in James' building-I'll live anywhere decent."

"James?" Emmett shudders. "I haven't heard that name in a while."

"Listen to this, Em, Bella ran into him in an elevator and he was still intent on humping her leg."

"Hell, no!"

"Hell, yes. I have to admit, I admire the guy's tenacity," Rose comments.

I roll my eyes and quickly change the subject. " Hey, where's Ted? I thought he was going to be joining us."

Emmett looks down at his watch. "He had an exclusive interview with the cast of a new vampire movie he says is the next hot thing. He should be here soon."

"And Lauren?"

"Still on a shoot," Rose replies. "She won't be home until late but she sends her love."

We focus back on our dinner and set out the fixings. The three of us could easily be dubbed the Three Stooges the way we fall over each other as we dive into making our tacos. I surprise myself by eating three. Now that I finally have my appetite back, I'm making up for lost time.

Later as we clean up Emmett suddenly pulls me into his arms and give me a long hug, rocking me gently.

"What?"

"I'm gonna miss you, girl," he says tenderly.

I bury my face into his broad chest. "Stop…you know I'll lose it if you get mushy on me."

"Sorry, I just got overwhelmed. But don't worry, I'll come visit."

"A year will go fast, right?" I say to both of them, and Rose walks up next to us.

"Sure, baby, sure," Rose responds, trying to sound more sure than I imagine she really feels.

.

Later at home Alice wanders into my bedroom to talk.

"Hey Bella, I've been wondering…why doesn't Edward just move to New York with you?"

"I wish," I moan. "It's weird, but we had talked about living in New York a number of times since we've met. He made it clear that the main reason he stayed in Los Angeles after his mom died was because he works so much better here. Living at the beach really opens his mind. I guess the frenetic pace of New York makes him really nervous. He says if he stays there over a week he becomes unglued. So knowing his issues…asking him to move there when I'll be working all the time seemed wrong and selfish.

"Then we finally talked about it the other day. He told me that part of him really wants to come with me, but he's had panic attacks when he starts seriously thinking about it. If I didn't push him into it and he decided he wanted to do it on his own, that would be one thing. But he really doesn't think he can handle it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Alice commiserates.

"It's okay though, cause I think he's coming around. I mean he swings now between being happy because he thinks he's going to persuade me to stay, to being calmer because he's starting to believe that we could make it through the year of being separated."

"Well, that's a big improvement from where you started."

"Exactly."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Jasper is on a mission to convince Edward that you guys can make it."

My heart swells. "Really? And I used to think he didn't liked me."

"Oh, he does. You guys have just been in some awkward situations together. But he knows with absolutely no hesitation that you are the best thing that ever happened, or will ever happen, to Edward. Over the years Jasper and Edward's friendship had fallen away to a pure business arrangement, and most of that was due to the fact that he couldn't stand who Edward had become. The longer you guys have been together, the closer they are again. It's like he has his old friend back and he doesn't want to lose him once more."

"Oh Alice, you're going to make me cry."

"Just remember baby, we all have your back. You have an entire team here dedicated to the idea of making this work for you. If either of you get off track, we will be all over it. So don't you worry-your man is in good hands."

"Thanks, I swear I don't know what I'd do without you guys. How will I ever repay you for all that you've done?"

"Well, you can start by loaning me that number you wore to the TV party recently. Jasper is finally taking me away this weekend, and I want to look especially hot."

"It's yours. Anything else?"

"How about a foot rub?"

"I don't think so." I laugh, making a face. "You're one demanding girlfriend aren't you!"

"Yes," she purrs. "And that's one of the reasons why you love me so."

"Yes, I do," I confirm as I push her out the door. "But I'm beat, so off to bed, princess. We both need our beauty sleep."

..~*~..

Several days later I turn to face the ocean as Edward wraps his arm around my waist. "I love Saturdays…the whole day with nothing to do but play with you."

"Don't forget we have Sam's birthday party tonight," he responds.

"Oh yeah, but that'll be fun. All of our friends will be there."

"That's right." He smiles broadly.

"Do you know we have our very own cheering squad?"

"Cheering squad?"

"Our friends say that they'll do whatever it takes to keep us together."

"Really?"

"Yes, evidentially we are such a spectacular couple that they refuse to give up on us. When I am working my ass off in New York and pining for you, they are going to keep the floosies away so you'll still want _me_ when I get home."

He rolls his eyes. "You'll always be the one I want, Bella. Always."

He pulls me in his arms and gives me a big sweet kiss before we head back to the house from the beach. We stop to brush the sand from our feet.

"Should we start lunch? Are you hungry yet?"

"Actually, can we wait a bit? _ArtOne_ sent me some sample DVD's to watch, and I'm hoping they give me an idea of what to expect."

"He looks at his watch. Okay, I'll start the burgers in about an hour. How's that sound?"

"Great. Thanks, baby." I reach up and kiss him before heading into the den.

.

But an hour later when Edward comes to tell me lunch is almost ready he finds me balled up in the corner of the couch, crying.

"What, Bella? What's wrong?"

"I can't do this," I cry softly.

"Can't do what?" he asks, concern moving across his face.

"Be a TV host. What were they thinking?" I wave one of the DVD boxes. "I have no training for this type of thing. I wasn't even in my high school play! And now I am going to be on a show that millions of people could watch. It's a recipe for disaster!"

He sits next to me on the couch and pulls me into his arms.

"Baby, you're going to be great. Like they said, you're a natural. Do you really think they would sign you up for this if they thought you couldn't do it?"

"But these people are pros!" I hurl the DVD case across the room. "What if I can't do it? What if I just freeze and stumble over my words? Or even worse, what if I sound like a babbling idiot?"

"You could never sound like an idiot. But if you try it and decide you don't like it, or they don't think it's working, then I suppose you'll have to come back and live with me. So it seems to me that either alternative is pretty damn good."

I fall back and curl under his arm, quietly crying while trying to contain my panic.

"Hey, I have an idea that could help, but I need to make a call. Will you be okay for a few minutes?"

I nod mutely.

He looks very pleased with himself when he returns.

"Who'd you call?"

"Do you remember my old neighbor who came and helped with the locks and alarm at your place after the robbery?"

I nod.

"Well, his older brother, Adam has a video production company, but before he did that he hosted a show on collectibles. I've arranged for you to do some training with him to get ready for your show."

"Why would he do that for me?"

"Don't worry about that, love, I'm making it worth his while. We'll start Tuesday evening."

"Oh, Edward," I sniffle.

"But first I want you to show me one of these DVD's so I can see what scared you so much."

I hand him the remote. "Be my guest, but I can't stand to see anymore."

"Oh no, you're watching with me." His grip around my waist tightens.

We watch the polished blonde glide across the screen all the while talking about home design. She's supremely confident. It's so fucking unnerving.

"Bella, you do realize that this broad has been doing this for years? She may be polished, but she is boring with a capital _B_."

"But she never misses a beat."

"That's called good editing, baby. No one's perfect on camera, but the editors know how to piece it together to look great. And the director knows during the shoot how to get what they need. You're part of a team. It's not just you on your own carrying all the weight of this thing working. It'll be in their best interest to make you look good."

"Really?"

"Yes, and they know you're new, so they know that'll be more work, but the trade off is worth it."

I relax into his arms and kiss his neck. "You've made me feel so much better, Edward. Damn, I love you."

"Besides you are so much more beautiful than her." He takes my face in his hands and kisses me gently.

"Oh my," I sigh.

"And sexy." The next kiss is hotter.

"Sexy? Hardly," I huff.

"Come on woman! These lips…these breasts." I feel him hardening under my lap as his hands cup and tease my breasts. He knows just how to touch me, and my mood quickly shifts from despair to desire.

My head falls back against his shoulder.

"These legs," he moans as his hand runs along my thigh and then slips inside my shorts. He finds my wetness and gently strokes me while still pulling on my nipple. My legs stretch apart, quivering with anticipation.

When he is assured I am undone he carefully lifts me off his lap and onto the couch while lowering himself onto the floor. Together we push my shorts and panties off in one sweeping motion. He spreads my legs and his fingers softly graze my inner thighs as he watches me intently.

"You know what kills me? I know men, even young men, are going to be watching this show, and I can guarantee later when they have their hard cocks gripped in their hands they'll be thinking about you."

"Don't be gross, Edward. You're crazy."

"Yeah, but not when it comes to your appeal. I just see what you refuse to. But I also know that you're mine. They can imagine what it would be to taste you, to have you…but only I will know."

I look down to see my man on his knees before me, and I gasp as he lowers his head between my legs. It's so beautiful to feel his warm mouth loving me, truly loving me.

I run my fingers through his hair moaning, "I'm yours."

He looks up, his eyes heated but full of devotion as his tongue caresses me. With every touch he shows me the depth of his love, over and over. Moments like this we are in our own universe. Together we orbit, stars shining brightly and burning into eternity, no matter how dark and uncertain the night sky.

.

.

* * *

_**Your reviews are what's kept me going. I love hearing from you…**_

I have sent team WofA my outtake for the Fandoms Fights the Floods fundraiser. My contribution is the **Barcelona spanking lemon told from Edward's point of view**. There are over 200 authors participating. To donate for this important cause: http:/fandomsfightthefloods (dot) blogspot (dot) com/p/home (dot) html

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Thanks!


	55. Chapter 55  Going for the Gold

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.

These three women couldn't be any more different yet they share the fact that they have all helped me bring WofA to you every week: thank you TwilightZoner and my pre-readers CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen.

One of my lovely reviewers told me WofA had gotten a rec on Puddle Jumping, by 107yearoldvirgin-a story about a talented artist who also happens to be a boy with full on Aspergers. He and Bella develop a special bond when they end up in the same high school. This is a beautiful story-so honest and well written. It made me wonder what type of adult my Edward (who has borderline Aspergers) would have become if he had found his Bella at this young age. If you haven't read it yet, I highly encourage you to check it out.

.

* * *

**Work of Art / Chapter Fifty-Five / Going for the Gold**

_Don't threaten me with love, baby. Let's just go walking in the rain.  
~Billie Holiday _

_.  
_

The lights are dim and the music pounding as Edward takes my hand and guides me inside. Sam wasn't kidding when he said it would be a wild party. His loft, a refurbished warehouse in Little Tokyo, is packed with people, and judging from the looks of the crowd it is primarily artists and musicians. I step closer to Edward, a little nervous by the wild energy and sea of unfamiliar faces. He wraps his hand around my waist as we weave our way over to Sam.

"You guys made it!" he exclaims pulling us both into a big hug. "I wasn't sure we'd pull you out of your love nest in Malibu for a party. It's really cool you came."

"Happy birthday, man," Edward says, smiling.

"We wouldn't have missed it," I chime in. I'm feeling festive, ready to enjoy an evening where we forget all about the changes ahead of us.

"Well, the bar is over there." He points to an elaborate set up. "And I just saw Rose and the gang. Get a drink and make yourselves at home."

We wander towards the bar, and I notice the huge paintings on the walls. His work is like Jean Paul Basquiat collided with a graffiti artist trying his hand at tattoos. It's wild and hip, but will it stand the test of time? I am doubtful, but I like Sam so I hope I'm wrong. After all, James's wife-the big art collector-took a chance on his work. That must say something even though she isn't exactly my cup of tea. And the good news is that Sam is making money now since he has become popular with a lot of people in the music industry.

Edward gets us a couple of beers, and we say hello to Xio and Lauren, who are warily watching Rose dance with Emmett and Ted.

"Why aren't you dancing?" I chide Lauren.

"Are you kidding? Look at them. I need at least a couple of drinks in me before I can cut loose like they can." I look over and Rose is dancing between the two guys moving to the musings of Kanye West. I have to admit they look hot.

"That Rose…the girl knows how to move." Edward laughs.

As the night goes on we also spend time with Jackie and Michael, Xio and Sam. I dance with Ted while Edward stands off to the side with his arms playfully crossed. Periodically women approach him, as men do me, but we work as a team deflecting and rebuffing. We are like stealth ninjas-newly trained professionals in the relationship game.

Our skills are truly tested when we are interrupted by some chick that apparently was a member of Edward's old fan club. She hands him a red marker and asks him to sign his name on her body just above where her tank tops ends and her breasts continue. There are already signatures across her chest from a number of the artists in attendance, including Sam. As much as I hate looking, it's like a train wreck you can't peel your attention away from. As my eyes roll over her abundant chest, I note that all the signatures are men's names. _Figures._ I hold my breath and look over to Edward.

"My girlfriend has to sign for me," he responds, handing me the Sharpie marker. Breast girl's face falls. She gives me a dirty look before taking the marker back and walking away in a huff. I breathe a sigh of relief before I elbow him.

"Gee thanks!" I tease.

"Would you have preferred the alternative?"

"Not unless you would've enjoyed a cat fight. Anyway, I'm so glad she didn't have me do it. If I'm going to touch a girl's breasts those aren't the ones I'd pick," I insist, reacting to the over-inflated orbs that clearly were surgically enhanced.

"Ohhh, you've got me intrigued now," Edward moans playfully, pulling me close. "Whose breasts would you touch? And even more importantly, can I watch?"

I laugh. "Okay, when Kiera Knightly or Natalie Portman comes looking for me, I'll make sure and let you in on the action. But watching only…no touching. You are mine only-I don't share."

He gets a faraway look in his eyes as if he is imagining me with these women. He shakes his head vehemently. "No, on second thought, I don't want to watch you with another woman. No one touches you but me."

"That's my man." I grin, pulling him close. "No sharing, ever."

"What are you two going on about?" Rose asks, joining us.

"Well actually, we were talking about me touching other women's breasts."

"Really?" she slurs, with one eyebrow raised and a devilish smile. "I bet you'd love to watch that.," She is clearly ahead of us with the drinking. "Straight men just love to watch two women get it on."

"Mmmm," Edward responds ambiguously, not wanting to provoke her.

"Actually, I'd like to watch too. Who are you going to do, Bella? I'll keep an open mind as long as it isn't Lauren."

"See, no one wants to share. It's not just me," Edward responds satisfied.

"I'm not touching anybody but my man," I purr. "He's more than enough for me."

"You two are no fun," she complains. "But if you change your mind, I have a friend who's always had a thing for you Bella, and she has great breasts like you…so just let me know."

"Will do, thanks, Rose. You're always such a pal."

"I do my best." She grins as she heads back out to dance.

"How does she know about your breasts?" Edward growls.

"She and Lauren admired them at the art show in New York when they were doing my makeover. Believe me, there was nothing to it."

Before he can respond we hear the music shut down and a loud whistle as Xio works to get everyone's attention. A large cake is rolled out covered with candles and sparklers, and the crowd breaks into a rowdy rendition of _Happy Birthday to You._ Sam is beaming. When the singing stops he steps forward to speak to everyone.

"First, I wanna love up my baby, Xio, for putting this together. This is the best birthday ever, girl." He hugs her, she kisses him, and everyone cheers.

"And while I have your attention, thanks everyone for coming and helping me celebrate thirty years in this crazy-ass life of mine. Also, a special shout out to my friends that came a distance to be here: Jackie and Michael, Cleo and Will, and my brother Hank. Hank just got cast in the traveling show of _Chicago_, so when it comes to L.A. I expect all of you to go see him."

Hank takes a theatrical bow, and everyone claps loudly.

"Yeah! Hey, thanks to Zane for selling the paintings that are paying for this party. Oh, and a big congrats to our girl, Bella, who I just found out scored the coolest job hosting a TV show about artists…so all you artists out there be extra nice to beautiful Bella. Hopefully she will remember her good friend Sam when they are looking for artists to feature."

I look over and see a very uncomfortable look on Edward's face.

"I also hear that the golden couple will be separated for a bit while Bella works in the big apple. Watch out, New York…here she comes!"

There is a cheer and Sam goes on with a few other announcements, but I can't hear with my heart pounding in my ears. With so very few words Sam has managed to douse Edward and I with icy cold water. The sexy, loving vibe is shattered, and I am suddenly deflated. Just a moment later an artist named Sean, who has a reputation for acute marketing savvy, pulls me aside to talk about the new show. Immediately one of those damn art whores corners Edward. I swear they have radars in their fake tits. Between the swirling crowd, loud music, and dramatic lighting, everything is moving too fast, and I can't even think straight. As Sean describes his most recent accomplishments, I look over at Edward, whose expression is unreadable as he looks into the distance while the art whore babbles on. I can tell that he is shutting down.

_Enough_, my mind pulls up her big girl panties and resolves to take control. I explain to Sean that I'd be happy to talk to him about the show another time, and he fishes out a business card and presents it to me before I step away. Sliding behind Edward, I wrap my arms around him and kiss his neck.

"Wanna dance, handsome?" I interrupt.

I can feel him relax into me. "I thought you'd never ask, baby," he sighs.

"Excuse us," I say to the pissed off blonde in front of him.

I take his hand and pull him through the crowd until we are on the edge of where people are dancing. The music is slow, so I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him close. I can tell everyone is watching him, well probably the two of us together, but he doesn't seem to notice since his gaze is solely focused on me. He holds me as we move slowly together, and I feel his need for me, his overwhelming want through every fiber of my being.

I have dressed a little more provocatively than usual tonight, my skirt shorter, top tighter, heels higher-probably from an instinctive need to keep Edward focused on me. We don't have many moments like this left before I leave, and all of these upcoming life changes have made me feel uneasy. And although I was right when I guessed that there would be a lot of beautiful women at this party-I shouldn't have worried. We are in our bubble, even here with people swarming around us. He looks down at me and smiles. "You picked quite the night to dress sexy baby," he says in a low voice.

"You like?"

"I love," he says softly as he pulls me closer. He looks up for a moment and seems distracted again.

"So what did that fucking opportunist Sean say?"

"Nothing I was interested in. And the blonde?"

"I don't know-I wasn't listening."

"Well, as for my outfit, I knew there would be a lot of probing eyes tonight, and I wanted to keep you on your toes and wound up," I tease.

"Well, your plan is working. I'm wound up all right."

"I'm wound up too. Just look at you, handsome." He is wearing the jeans that fit like they were tailored just for him with his fitted black shirt. Between his gorgeous face, height, and perfect physique he is a sight for sore eyes. "You are the sexiest man I've ever seen."

"Ever?" he taunts. He's confident about his looks and prowess, and that gets me even more worked up.

"Yes," I hiss.

He smiles, taking my hand to lead me into a slow spin before pulling me into his arms. "What shall we do about it?"

"When we get back to Malibu, I'm going to model my new lingerie for you. I went shopping at Agent Provocateur last week with you in mind. And once you are good and aroused, I am going to slowly undress you and run my hands…"

"Wait a minute, are you wearing your recent purchases now?"

"Yes, I am," I reply, giving him my best seductive look.

"Black?"

"Yes, very sheer and very tiny. My nipples peek out of the top of the lacey bra and my ass…well, you get the idea."

He swallows hard as his hands move down low on my hips. "What are we waiting for then?"

We barely have time to say our goodnights before he pulls me out towards the car. He drives down Sunset Boulevard a little fast for my taste, but I appreciate the reason for speed. At a stoplight he turns towards me with a dark look in his eyes.

"I can't wait-I want a preview." He gestures towards my breasts.

"Are you sure? We still have a long way to drive."

He nods and hungrily watches my fingers unbutton the first few buttons of my little top. I part the fabric, revealing my breasts spilling out of the most delicate black lace. I can feel the flush move across my chest and my nipples harden as he gazes at me.

"Do you like it?" I whisper.

"Fuck," he groans. I hear his breathing get raspy, and it takes great resistance for me not to look towards his lap. If he is already aroused I know I won't be able to keep my hands off him, driving or not.

I notice his fingers tighten over the steering wheel as he shifts in his seat. The light changes to green. Suddenly he makes a sharp left turn and guns the engine.

"Where are we going, Edward?"

"To your place. I won't make it all the way to Malibu."

I squeeze my thighs together and tighten my seatbelt, saying a silent thanks that my apartment is only minutes away. Nothing is hotter than a worked up Edward. People complain about the high cost of sexy lingerie, but you can't put a price on the look of want that my little reveal sparked. My night has never looked more promising.

..~*~..

I wake up blurry eyed and notice my black bra dangling from the headboard and my tiny panties hanging from the Jane Austen collection in my bookcase. Remembering that we decided to crash at my apartment after our night of wild lovemaking, I blink, adjusting my eyes and my mind. The depth of our passion for each other is startling in the morning light.

I peel myself off of Edward to look for my pillow, only to discover that it is suspended between my mattress and the wall, inches from the floor. _Holy hell. _We didn't even drink that much last night. Why is the bed pulled away from the headboard? Then as my vision skims over Edward twisted up in my sheets, I begin to remember our night of lovemaking Olympics.

We enthusiastically participated in many events, from gymnastics and high diving to track and field. Highlights include balancing on his beam, the pole vault, our flawless hand-offs in the relay race, and wrestling. As we got near the finish line, instead of sprinting across we competed in rhythmic gymnastics-conducting a beautiful ballet across the bed and concluding with a majestic thrust in the shot put. The landing on impact made the walls shake. Believe me, there will be no silver or bronze on Edward's medal stand. Gold all the way, baby.

I shimmy off the bed and pull on my silk robe before heading to the kitchen to start the coffee. While it brews I splash cool water on my face, brush my teeth, and try to tame the wild nest that my hair has been transformed into. Before I head back to the bedroom, I rummage through the catch-all drawer in the kitchen for an old memento from a kids party I attended. _Bingo! _I rework its shiny surface with a sharpie marker, gather it in my hand, and carry our coffee back to the bedroom.

I sit on the edge of the bed and watch him slowly stir to the smell of fresh brewed java. He smiles before he even opens his eyes. Oh, but when those brilliant green eyes open they are something to behold. I love happy Edward eyes.

"Good morning, handsome. Your coffee is on the nightstand."

"You are too good to me, baby. Thanks." As he slowly sits up, he suddenly realizes that there is a foreign object around his neck. With a puzzled look he runs his fingers along the red, white, and blue striped ribbon and lifts it up to examine the fake gold medallion he has pressed between his fingers.

"What's this?" He reads aloud: "Edward Masen, USA, Gold Medal Winner."

"You won the gold medal last night."

He grins. "Well, it was a team effort. Where's yours?"

"We can share. But you get it first since you led us to victory."

I'm tempted to take a picture because of the delectable way he looks as he sips his coffee. Wild hair, naked except for the sheet gathered around his waist, and the silly gold medal dangling from his chest…he has never looked happier.

And you know what? He wears that damn thing all day long.

.

In the early afternoon we are curled up together on the couch. I am doing some internet research on my laptop for a new project Nick has given me, and Edward is checking his emails on his iPhone when the front door bursts open. Alice and Jasper tumble in laughing and drop their luggage on the floor.

"Come here, my crazy girl," Jasper teases, and we watch Alice fall into his arms. A moment later they are kissing passionately, and it's awkward because they haven't realized yet that we are here.

"Hi guys," I finally call out from fear that they are going to start fucking in front of us. Vivid memories of the dining room table episode are still fresh in my mind.

They pull apart, stunned, and turn towards us.

"Oh hi…sorry. I didn't know you guys were here. I didn't see your car out front," Alice gasps.

"Blinded by love," Edward grumbles under his breath.

"How was the wine country?" I ask.

"Perfect," Jasper replies, pulling Alice closer.

"Yeah, perfect," she repeats smiling.

There is an uncomfortable moment where none of us are sure what to do next when Alice reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Her hand sparkles, and my breath catches when I realize that she's wearing a diamond ring.

"Alice, what's that on your hand? Is there something you want to tell us?" I am smiling ear to ear.

Alice hesitates. I know my girl. She doesn't want to flaunt her big news knowing that Edward and I are trying to balance on a high wire right now…each moment we are perilously close to falling. Before all my drama Alice would have called me with the news right after it happened, but now she is hesitant.

She finally holds her hand out. "Yeah, Jasper gave it to me."

"You're engaged?" Edward asks. I can hear the pain in his voice. I only hope they can't hear it. I deflect his anguish by jumping up and pulling them both into a big hug.

"That is so exciting guys…the best news! I am so happy for you."

They are both glowing, and they smile warmly at me. Alice shows me her ring, and I swoon. It's so beautiful.

Meanwhile, Edward has regained his composure and he joins us, hugging them both as well.

"You two work fast," he jokes.

"Yeah, well, I know what I want, so there was no point in waiting any longer," Jasper sighs as he pulls Alice back into his arms.

"You've always been wise, Jasper. You've got a good woman. Hold onto her and never let her go."

Alice and I exchange looks. I can see so many of her thoughts and pain for us in her expression, but it can't overshadow her joy-nor should it. I decide to give them some time alone.

"Hey Edward, let's go take that walk we were talking about and give the_ fiancée and her_ _fiancé _time to settle back home."

Before we head out the door I ask Alice and Jasper to pick a night when we can all go out and celebrate. I don't want any of my stuff to get in the way of her having a wonderful engagement. She deserves all the happiness coming her way.

.

We are silent as I drive us up into the Hollywood hills and park at the base of the Lake Hollywood reservoir, which looks like a little lake in a country setting with towering pine trees shading the walking path. You can hardly believe you are only minutes away from Hollywood Boulevard. We get out of the car and start walking, slowly winding along the trail facing the water as joggers and cyclists wiz past us.

I finally feel ready to speak.

"About Alice and Jasper being engaged…I know that was painful, Edward. I'm glad you came around and were happy for them."

He kicks a small rock and considers what he wants to say.

"Yes, it was painful. Bella, I want that for us. I want what they have. I can't help being jealous. It has all come so easy for them."

"I can't argue with that," I agree. They haven't even ever had a major fight-just little arguments. It's been smooth sailing for Alice and Jasper.

"Damn, they even met _after _we did," Edward curses.

"I know, baby, but it's different. They've had an easy time of it, where we had some baggage to deal with."

"Ha! S_ome_ baggage?"

"Okay, yeah, like a whole train full. Jasper and Alice are charmed. They didn't have any of that."

"I hate them for that," he growls.

"No you don't. You hate _our_ drama. I wish things weren't so challenging for us all of the time. I still worry that you will decide it's not worth all the heartache."

He makes a face and rolls his eyes at me. "Not worth all the heartache? After a night like last night how can you imagine that you aren't worth the heartache? You must know that you are everything to me."

I intertwine my fingers with his. "Oh, my love," I whisper.

"You know, before all this happened I was going to ask you to marry me. But then I couldn't because it would have seemed like it was coming out of desperation."

"That sounds like something my new therapist, Joy would say. Did Cara say that?"

"Actually no, I did…but she agreed. She wants us to be on strong footing before we take that step."

"I'm sure she's right, Edward. You know I want to marry you, but we need to get through this challenge first. Then the engagement will be a celebration, not an fearful attempt to hold things together while I am gone."

"Logical but completely unsatisfying," he grumbles. "How many murky puddles are we going to have to jump over?"

I look down at our hands as we hold onto each other.

"Hey, I have an idea," I say excitedly. "You know how we would both feel better if there was a reminder to the world that we are together?"

He looks at me intrigued and hopeful.

"Why don't we wear promise rings? I don't know much about them, but I believe it shows intent-a symbol of the promise we have made to wait for each other. It could be something simple like a band, and your name could be engraved in mine and mine in yours. Then everyone would know that we are committed to each other."

"You would wear that, do that for me?" He pulls me into his arms, tightly holding me against his chest. I can hear his heart thundering.

"Yes, Edward, yes. I want everyone to know I'm yours." I reach up to kiss him. It's a joyful kiss. I can feel him smiling broadly as our lips move together.

When we break apart he grins. "I'll call the jeweler in the morning!"

And with that idea the cloud lifts and we are in the sun again.

.

The following week is crazy busy. Edward takes me to two TV training sessions with Adam, which ends up being the best idea in the world. He seems impressed with my natural abilities and gives me lots of pointers and advice. My confidence grows with each take we do on camera.

I have also made a commitment to see my therapist twice a week until we leave for Paris. I'm relieved that she is willing to do phone sessions once I move to New York since I am already finding anxiety relief from the work we are doing.

Edward and I spend Thursday evening at my place figuring out our schedules and booking our trip to Paris. I probably have no business going away for a week right before the move to New York, but Edward and I really need the time together. Meanwhile, Alice has started bringing home boxes, since with the engagement and my departure she has decided to move in with Jasper. We give the final notice to our landlord. This surreal adventure becomes more real with each passing day.

So when Saturday rolls around, I have almost forgotten that we have the book signing at the Grove. Luckily Edward is less distracted, and he remembered to bring nicer clothes to wear to the event. I live near the Grove, and he spent the night so we would be relaxed about getting there on time.

When he steps into the living room after his shower he takes my breath away. He has a jacket over his dark button down shirt and tailored jeans.

"What?" he asks, noticing my stupor.

"You are so damn handsome, Edward. Did you dress up for your fans?"

He smiles as he pulls his jacket sleeves down. "No, for you, baby. It's always for you."

"Okay, well, you've just raised the bar. I'm going to change so we don't look like the odd couple-gorgeous man with frumpy girl."

"Oh yeah, you make sweats look sexy, girlfriend. But since you're changing, may I suggest that short skirt you wore Saturday night? I'm in the mood for legs today."

"You got it!"

We head into Barnes & Noble about forty minutes ahead of the announced event time, and there is already a line forming. The P.R. girl from Taschen pulls us upstairs to a private lounge area next to the manager's office.

Jasper and Alice are already there waiting for us, and they're talking to my lawyer, Jackson, and a tall gorgeous African-American woman. Edward and I join them and make the introductions.

"Edward, great to meet you. You're definitely your father's son."

"Well, in looks anyway," I tease.

"Let me introduce my girlfriend. Tasha this is Bella and her boyfriend, Edward Masen." We all shake hands. I give Alice and Jasper hugs.

"We saw your work at a gallery last time we were in New York," Tasha comments to Edward. "We almost bought a piece but we couldn't agree on which one."

"Well, did you consider buying two so you each get what you want?" Jasper suggests.

"Thanks, Jasper," Jackson groans. "Today just got a lot more expensive."

"Yes, thanks, Jasper." Tasha smiles and then leans reaches up and kisses Jackson on the cheek. "Baby, you talked about getting me a special gift for my promotion-so it's a win-win."

"She's good," Edward grins, nodding to Jackson.

"You have no idea." He laughs as he quickly changes the subject. "So did you guys see the line outside? We like to see that," Jackson notes, his eyes bright.

"I read about the signing on a number of blogs last night," Jasper notes. "I think we are going to have a great turnout."

I look out the door just as an employee pushes a hand-cart full of our books past. It suddenly hits me._ I wrote a book about an amazing artist who now is my boyfriend. And now I'm a published author about to do a book signing at one of the major bookstores in Los Angeles._ _Oh my God._ This is huge. My face is already hurting from grinning so hard.

"You're excited," Jackson observes. His girlfriend smiles at me warmly.

"I am," I say softly as Edward pulls me closer.

"You should be. This is a big deal," Jackson proclaims. "And this is just the beginning, right Edward? You guys are quite the dynamic duo."

"We sound like superheroes, baby. Are you going to help me conquer the world?" Edward teases.

"Of course," I laugh. "Besides, I'd follow you anywhere just to see you in those tights."

Alice is about to comment when Sandy, the PR girl, comes to get us. We take our places at the table as they set out markers and bottles of water. My stomach starts flip flopping. Am I ever going to get used to this stuff?

Edward turns to me and squeezes my hand. "Ready, baby?"

"As much as I'll ever be. But it makes all the difference that I'm doing it with you."

"For me too, Bella. That's for sure."

They lift the rope and the first people step forward.

Everyone is friendly and polite as they hand us their books to sign. Some seem too shy to ask anything; others want to tell us in great detail about their struggle to be artists or stories about other artists they have met. The Taschen woman pushes those people along. The expected art whores are sprinkled into the group. One even gives Edward her sexy head shot photo with her personal number written on the back. After she finally moves on I hand it to Jasper, who makes a face and deposits it in the trash in the back.

Rose and Lauren show up about halfway through the event as we have plans to all have lunch at Maggianos when we're done. They note the long line, watching us with pride, and it warms my heart. We take a moment to introduce them to Jackson and Tasha before they have to leave for another event.

The line keeps moving. The weirdest moment is when a middle-aged guy presents Edward with a paint-by-number painting of a clown he had done hoping Edward would incorporate it into one of his paintings. I am a little worried how that gesture will be received, but Edward manages to be polite and explain that his process doesn't work that way. The guy leaves it as a gift anyway, and Edward thanks him graciously.

In contrast, my sweetest moment comes when a bookish girl, who looks like a senior in high school, lingers to tell me that I have inspired her to write about art. She shows me her journal where she has posted pictures of paintings from newer artists that she has researched on the internet. Next to the clipped-out, scotch-taped copies of the paintings, she has written about the work. I end up doing a special dedication in her book and giving her a big hug. Edward and I even pose for a picture with her. I can tell that she's floating as she walks away, and it makes my day.

We are about to wrap up when a beautiful blonde approaches the table. She is holding _Unspoken Truths_ tightly to her chest, and I reach up towards the book with one hand and the marker poised in the other.

"Who shall I dedicate this to?" I ask politely.

I don't like the look in her eyes as she pulls back. "Oh no, I only want _him_ to sign my book," she huffs. She looks over to Edward with a spark in her eyes, but he is still talking with a young artist who bought two books to be dedicated.

When they finally finish, I lean into Edward and with a smirk, quietly say, "This one only wants _you_ to sign her book."

He turns so he is closer and facing me, smiles and rolls his eyes. He doesn't even look up at her when she slides the book to him. He just pulls it open so that he can sign it.

"Hello, Edward," she purrs, all silk and honey.

The sweetness of her tone leaves a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. A fraction of a second later I am hit with a powerful feeling, and I turn toward Edward and my stomach falls. The color has drained from his face, and he is looking at the beautiful blonde like he has seen a ghost. My heart races…I have never seen this look on his face. I don't even know how to gauge his reaction to her it is so overwhelming. All I can sense is that our lives are about to change, and I'm terrified, trying to keep my vision focused and my heart in my chest.

The room falls away, and it's just Edward, me and the blonde angel of doom. One word falls from his lips in a gasp, and it's the name I had hoped to never hear again.

"Tanya."

.

.

* * *

**I'm sure you aren't happy with me about now, and I understand…really I do. _What the hell abbie, there are only five more chapters and you let Tanya come back to claim her man? _All I ask is that you consider that the ex coming back may be a good thing in the long run. Have faith in me…and I will do my best not to let you down cause I love you guys…really I do!**

A reminder that there is still a chance to be a part of the Fandoms Fights the Floods fundraiser. My contribution is the **Barcelona spanking lemon told from Edward's point of view**. There are over 200 authors participating. To donate for this important cause: http:/fandomsfightthefloods (dot) blogspot (dot) com/p/home (dot) html (remove spaces and change (dot) to . )

Thanks!


	56. Chapter 56  More

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.

_**A huge thanks to my beta, TwilightZoner and my pre-readers, CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen.**_

It's not too late to donate to the Fandoms Fights the Floods fundraiser. My contribution is the **Barcelona spanking lemon told from Edward's point of view**. There are over 200 authors participating. To support this important cause: http:/fandomsfightthefloods (dot) blogspot (dot) com/p/home (dot) html (remove spaces and change (dot) to . )

_Thanks to a generous flurry of rec's, pimping and reviews there's been bunch of new readers taking on WofA. Welcome...it's so great to have you along for the ride!_

* * *

.

**Work of Art / Chapter Fifty-Six / More**

_"The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places." ~Ernest Hemingway_

_.  
_

She smiles seductively. "Hi Edward. It's so good to see you again."

My eyes dart back to Edward who is still dumbstruck, and I immediately realize the command Tanya still has over him. Fear rises in me like a towering inferno. I want to be a superhero and surround him with an invisible, impenetrable shield. I want to go back in time and re-live today so she isn't it in anymore.

But Tanya really is in this day, she owns it now-and my superhero skills fail me.

As I observe the two watching each other I realize that she not only owns today, she owns a piece of him I will never, ever have. And I look up at her, backlit from the falling sun coming through the windows-her blond hair a glowing halo, and in my mind I prepare for battle.

I've got to admit-the bitch has timing. What a dramatic entrance…she has glided into town to descend on Edward when he's most vulnerable. How convenient that when one girlfriend is leaving another presents herself. Something tells me she has done her research and has a plan. Is she imagining she's going to step into my place? I swallow back the bile and grip the edge of the table.

"What are you doing here?" Edward whispers. He's still pale and now shaking.

"I really wanted to see you. I've moved to L.A., and you were the first person I looked up."

He slams his hands on the table and pushes his chair back. He rises with such force that the chair tumbles over backwards. The rest is a blur as he storms away with Jasper on his heels. As I jump up to follow she addresses me.

"I always have this effect on him. I love that he's still so dramatic."

I look up and see Rose moving towards us, anger etched across her face.

I grit my teeth. "I hope you're satisfied, Tanya. I'm his girlfriend, and if you remember anything about him you would know how messed up it was to surprise him like that." I turn to find Edward and her next words echo in my ear.

"Oh, it'll be a happy surprise…he just doesn't know it yet."

"Rose," I call out, trying not to sound as unhinged as I feel.

"I've got this." She nods with a steely look in her eyes as she approaches Tanya. She tilts her head, indicating I should go find Edward, but before I do I watch Rose's face flash from furious to friendly as she reaches _Miss Happy Surprise. _

"Hey girl, long time!" she exclaims to Tanya. Rose is smart; she's going to get more information by taking this approach. I rush to the back of the store.

.

I find Alice pacing in the hallway near the restroom. She looks at me warily.

"Where is he?" I ask anxiously. I hear angry voices, and I stop breathing when I hear Edward more clearly.

"I waited for her ten fucking years with no calls, no letters, no emails…not a god damned thing, and she shows up now at Bella's and my important event, with a smile on her face like nothing happened!" Edward roars.

I can't hear Jasper's reply not just because he isn't yelling. My heart is thundering in my chest, and I can hear the blood rushing through my heart.

"Is the blonde that girlfriend he had in college?" Alice asks.

"That's her," I confirm.

I point to the men's room door. "They're in here, right?" Alice nods. I knock on the door.

"Edward, it's me. Can you come out so we can talk?"

There is a moment of silence, and then they get loud again. Edward is yelling something, but I can't make out the words because Jasper is getting loud too. I hear the sound of something crashing.

"Edward!" I bang on the door.

It suddenly rips open, and Jasper sticks his head out. His face is twisted in frustration. "Bella, we need some time."

"I can't talk to her!" Edward yells.

My stomach sinks. "Why won't he talk to _me_?" I ask Jasper, my voice uneven.

"He's having a melt-down. I've got to get him out of here before he tears this place up more." He looks down at his watch. "Thank God the event is over. I don't want anyone to see him like this." He turns to Alice.

"Alice stay with Bella. I'm going to take him to our place and see if I can get him to calm down. I'll call you when I get a handle on things."

"No," I cry out. "I need to talk to him now!"

"Bella, leave," I hear Edward growl.

"Edward, please," I beg.

"You can't see me like this…just leave damn it! I don't want you around this messed up shit."

Even though I know he doesn't mean that the way it sounds, it's still is a kick in the stomach. Alice steps up and puts her arm around me.

"Come on, Bella, he's just raging. He isn't mad at you, baby."

I fist my hands as I am overcome with a surge of adrenaline. I want to knock that damn door down and slap some sense into him, but as fast as the angry energy appears, it disappears, and I am left unsure as to what I should do. I've never seen Edward push me away when he was upset with someone else. Maybe Jasper and Alice are right that he needs to calm down before we talk. If I force things in the heat of the moment, it may backfire. Besides, if he still has a thing for that bitch I'm not ready to hear about it.

Alice pulls me away long enough for Jasper to grab Edward and drag him out the back door. I get a quick glimpse of his face before their backs are turned away from us, and it terrifies me. He looks completely crazy. I barely recognize him. How could he come unglued so quickly?

.

"There you are."

I look up to see Rose moving towards me.

"Where's Edward?" she asks.

"Gone," I answer, my voice laced with frustration and hollow with despair.

"Jasper took him to our place to try to calm him down," Alice offers

"Wise choice," Rose confirms. "Tanya is still over by the event table waiting to talk to him. I'll go tell her to give it up, that he left because he didn't want to talk to her."

"While you're at it could you tell her to go back to fucking Alaska or where ever the big god damned rock is that she crawled out from under," I rant.

"Go, Bella!" Alice whispers under her breath.

"You know on second thought, why don't you let me tell her? I'll pull out that lovely blond hair of hers before I let her fuck with him again."

"Well, that's hot and all, but Bella, you know that isn't your choice to make. Edward will have to decide if he wants to talk to her or not," Rose states.

"How can you say that?" I groan. "Whose fucking side are you on?"

"Listen girlfriend, you may not see this right now, but her showing up could end up being a good thing. This will be the opportunity for Edward to finally deal with and move past all his unresolved feelings about her."

"That's just great. And he will be working on unresolved feelings while I'm in New York, a million miles away."

"No," Rose looks alarmed. "You better get through this stuff before you leave."

"Maybe we're overstating this," Alice chimes in. "He didn't even want to see her. Maybe one conversation between them will be all it takes."

Rose and I both look doubtful, but I try to hold onto that thought because it's the least upsetting one I have.

.

Sitting on our couch in our partially packed living room, I finally ask Rose about her and Tanya's conversation before we left the bookstore.

"What reason did she give for suddenly moving to L.A.?" I ask as I nurse my bottle of water.

"Something snapped in her, and she decided she had enough of marriage, raising kids, Alaska…you name it. Her husband had become a drunk and was hardly painting, and the money was drying up. I think it became clear that she had hitched her wagon to the wrong horse. So she decided to get back in the art game. Somehow she scored a job with the Gagosian Gallery in Beverly Hills, and she came out here to work. Her kids are with her in-laws. She was vague about how that would play out.

"Snapped," I whisper. "Just like that."

"Just like that."

It suddenly occurs to me that Edward has talked about the Gagosian Gallery. He really wants them to carry his work, but he hasn't convinced the owner yet. Could she know this? Is this part of her plan? My paranoia is running wild.

"So she left her kids behind and the first person she looks up is Edward, who she abandoned ten years ago? She sounds like a real winner," Alice says angrily.

We are interrupted by Alice's cell phone.

"Hi, baby," she says. It must be Jasper.

"Good, we were pretty freaked out, so I'm glad to hear it."

She smiles and nods to me. _Well, at least it isn't bad news_, I surmise from her reactions to what he's saying.

"Okay, she's right here." She hands me the phone. "Edward wants to talk to you."

I take the phone in my shaky hands. "Edward?"

"Bella," he sighs. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm really sorry I lost it like that." His voice is ragged and remorseful.

"You sure scared me, Edward. I'm kind of a wreck here."

"Oh, Bella. Look, can you come get me? I need to see you, and we need to talk."

"Talk? Are you going to break up with me or something?" Both Alice and Rose turn towards me startled.

"Hell no! What are you thinking? Shit! See what she's done? Now you think I'm breaking up with you." I can hear his temper firing up again.

"I didn't mean it-I'm just upset. Look, I'm on my way. Just wait for me, okay?"

"Okay, but hurry."

.

After I get to Jasper's condo complex, it takes me a few minutes to find his unit due to the elaborate layout of the building design. When I finally ring the bell, Edward quickly answers. As relieved as I am to see him, I'm taken aback by the purple rings around his eyes and his drawn expression.

"Baby," he reaches out and pulls me into his arms.

"Are you all right?" I ask, tentatively.

"Well, I'm better now that I have you with me. I'm so sorry about what I said. I was just so angry at her, and I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah, it freaked me out, but part of me knew you didn't mean it." I look up at him to try to get a more sure read of his state of mind. I'm not encouraged. It can't be good that he can be this unhinged from the girl merely saying hello. What will happen if she really challenges him?

Just then his phone starts ringing, and he tenses and turns it off without answering it.

"Is that her?" I ask, trying to control the panic in my voice.

"Yes, I made the mistake of answering the first time because I thought I recognized the number. As soon as I realized it was her, I told her I had nothing to say to her and I hung up. But she just keeps fucking calling, over and over again. Now that you are here, I can turn my phone off. I just didn't want to miss you if you tried to call."

He slides his long fingers across the screen and shuts the phone off.

_Okay, so she's nuts_. I think to myself. _ I'm getting a better idea of what we're dealing with._

"So, was that really the first time you had heard from her? You really had no idea that she had moved to L.A.?"

"No, idea," he states firmly.

"Well, that must have been quite a surprise then."

"And you know how I feel about surprises, baby."

"Yes, I certainly do. What exactly do you think she expects or wants from you?"

"I think she'd like to watch me fall to my knees and beg her to come back to me. It's like a sport with her. And the worst part is, once she gets an idea in her head, she is unrelenting. I've seen her do anything to get her way."

I am silent for a moment as I labor over what to say next. I can't help myself. "Tanya said that you didn't know it yet, but her finding you again was going to end up being a happy surprise."

His expression hardens. "She said that to you because she is masterful at the mind fuck. She wants to erode our relationship, the trust we have in each other. And we can't let her do that, Bella."

"No. I'm not going to let her fuck with either of us," I respond resolutely.

"That's my girl." He looks back into Jasper's condo. Let's get out of here, Jasper means well but he's making me nuts."

..~*~..

The drive to Malibu is quiet-each of our minds painting pictures that will hopefully never see the light of day. He steers with his left hand and holds my hand with his right. With all of this shit being thrown at us, we have never needed to feel the connection that flows between us more.

"Let's change and go for a walk," he says after we pass through the front door. I follow him upstairs, and as I start to unbutton my blouse, I watch him disrobe. Something about knowing Tanya is near makes me observe him with fresh eyes. I imagine she was impressed with how Edward has aged and filled out. I have seen pictures of him from college, and although he was always handsome, he is breathtaking now. As he pulls on a T-shirt, I watch his muscles ripple and admire his body unabashedly. He's everything I could ever want.

_He's mine,_ I chant inwardly. I don't care what claim she thinks she has as his first love. He is mine.

As I slide on my flip flops, he reaches out and takes my hand. We wind down the stairs, and at the bottom he stops to take something out of the hall closet-it makes me smile.

"That's some kite," I observe as we close the gate and step down on the sand.

"You like it? I was feeling inspired one day and painted it."

"Yeah, I like it a lot. But it should be in a museum, not dragged along the sand."

"Are you teasing me, Ms. Swan?"

"Hell, no. Did you see that exhibit of paintings on surfboards at MOCA?"

"Yeah, yeah…but sometimes art should just be fun."

"Fun sounds good right about now," I say quietly.

The late afternoon sun shimmers across the water and warms us as we start walking along the shore. When we find a wide, open area of sand he hands me the spool of line and reminds me to hold on tightly. He holds the kite and starts walking away backwards while still facing me. The line grows longer as we move further and further apart.

"Shouldn't you run?" I yell, remembering the effort we would make as kids trying to get a kite up in the park near my house.

"No need," he yells back. "Watch!" And after several more steps backward, a big gust of wind hits us, and he lifts the kite high above him. It magically lifts into the air and despite a couple of zig zags as I let the spool unfurl, it soars upwards until it is high above us.

_Wow, just like that._

He jogs back to me grinning. "Hold on baby, don't let go."

"I got it, I got it!" I affirm.

Another gust hits us, and the kite pulls on me hard, anxious to join the flock of seagulls that have just flown past us.

"Oh, no you don't," I tell it, holding on tight. "You're staying with me."

Edward laughs. He stands behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and maneuvers my hands to make the kite dance. I feel his warm lips on my neck and my knees grow weak, but I never lose focus on keeping the kite in the air.

Eventually he gives me a break, taking the spool as we sink down to the sand, lying back to watch the delicate structure of nylon, rods, and fine line dance back and forth with the sea wind.

I turn and watch his focused expression as the sun falls over him. His brows knitted, he bites his lip as he tightens the spool.

"Can I ask you something, Edward?"

He looks over at me briefly and nods. "Sure. What is it?"

"Aren't you going to talk to her?"

"No."

"But aren't you curious what she has to say?"

"Look, Bella, there isn't a thing she could say that would change anything. I knew it from the moment I saw her again. All of the ways she toyed with me and messed with my head when we were involved came back to me like it was yesterday. Then I was here waiting for years and I got nothing from her, and it tore me apart. Now, I'm finally getting myself together. I've found real happiness with you, and I realize that it wasn't actually her that I had been waiting for, but the idea of being in love-the idea of letting someone into your heart and trusting that they will still love you even after they look around."

"After they look around?"

"Yeah, at the mess and all the dark stuff inside your head. But with me…hey, have you ever seen one of those shows about how some people hoard crap in their homes."

"You mean those whack jobs that have piles of stuff everywhere so that they can't sit on the furniture or even get through the rooms?"

"Exactly. That is how my head and my heart felt. So god damn crammed full of garbage and crazy ideas that I couldn't even see straight. Then I met you, Bella, and you started clearing paths through all the crap. Like one of those people on the show that comes in and calmly helps clear everything that is unneeded out. And because of you, more stuff gets cleared out all the time."

"Can you sit on the couch yet?" I tease.

"Work with me, baby, this is a metaphor."

"Okay, soooo we're clearing the crap…"

"And I'm stronger for it. And that's one of the reasons I love you."

"I'm your crap clearer…Edward, you always say the most romantic things," I smirk.

"But here's the point, smarty pants…why in the world would I want to open the door and let Tanya drag her old messed up crap back into my world?"

"Well, you have a point there. Somehow your visual is really driving it home for me. You're right-just keep that door closed, boyfriend, and you and I can make out on that couch we've cleared off."

He grins and gives me his sex look before he starts winding the line around the spool and pulling the kite down towards us. "So, since you brought up making out, how about some hot tub fun?"

I stand up and brush the sand off my shorts. "I thought you'd never ask."

"But first you need to grab it."

"Out here on the beach in front of everyone?"

"No, the kite, baby. I'm reeling it in-when it gets low, grab it."

I blush but no grabbing is necessary. The thing sails out of the sky and lands gently in my arms.

"Perfect." He sighs.

We turn and head back towards the house with the sun on our backs and the wind pushing us forward. His fingers lace through mine, and for that moment, I have a brilliant few seconds where I actually believe that everything is going to be all right.

.

Later, as more elaborate plans are abandoned, our evening consists of a take-out dinner and forgettable movie. Exhaustion hits us both, and we fall into bed around eleven. Sleep takes me quickly, but at some point in the night I begin to stir realizing that something is off. I reach over for Edward and instead of warm skin, my hand passes across his pillow, cold in his absence. My eyes pop open.

"Edward?" I whisper.

As my eyes adjust, I realize that he is out on the balcony facing the ocean. I lie and watch him. Every once in a while he paces across the wood planks, runs his hands through his hair, then turns back toward the water and grabs the rail. He looks like an animal trying to figure out how to break out of his cage. With each pace across the balcony, he looks more tense.

I can't wait any longer for him. I rise and wrap the throw from the foot of the bed around my naked body and step outside.

"Edward?"

He looks at me forlornly. "I woke you."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing…everything."

His expression is haunting. Where's my beautiful man who had come to believe that our love was bigger than any tornado swirling over us?

I step closer and run my hand across his shoulder. I can feel it all right under my fingertips…my impending departure, Tanya's reappearance and the deafening echo of his abandoned heart. They all weave together into a heavy weight that is pulling him down.

I understand his agony. I'm an ordinary girl whose parents left my life and never came back. Those scars are inside me like the rings of years marked on the inside of a tree.

All Edward can see is that I'm leaving to chase a once-in-a-lifetime dream. But through this experience, I am determined to make us stronger and break the cycle of abandonment that has damaged us. He doesn't fully believe yet that my love and devotion will bring me back to him…but I know without a doubt that it will.

"You're so wound up, baby. Your head is filling up with dark thoughts again, isn't it?" I ask gently.

"Yes," he admits.

"Oh, Edward. Here why don't you let me help you? Why don't you come lie down and I'll rub your back."

His head drops, but he nods.

As we step inside I pull the covers all the way back, and after pulling off his PJ bottoms he lowers himself onto the bed, stomach first. I sit on the edge of the bed and twist around so that I can rub his shoulders. They are so tight that I have to work my hands hard.

"You need to let go of all of whatever you're worrying about. Take a deep breath, baby."

Watching his body rise and fall with each breath, I gently rake my fingers through his hair and make soft circles down his sculpted back, over his hips and thighs. He sighs contentedly, so I do it several more times before working on his shoulders again. He suddenly turns and takes a look at back at me. "You can't be comfortable trying to work on me from that angle. Why don't you get up on the bed?"

I climb up and straddle him, sitting just above his ass. The throw I'd wrapped around me gets in the way, and I peel it off as I settle over him. My hands move slowly up his back, pressing gently along either side of his spine.

"I'm sorry for all you've had to deal with these past few weeks, Edward. It's understandable that you are freaking out…it would be a lot for anyone to deal with."

"I'm trying so hard, but I'm not so good at handling so much emotion," he murmurs.

"Well, let me help you." I lean forward and kiss him gently at the base of his neck. My breasts skim his back. "I love you so much, and I want to help you however I can."

"Oh Bella." He shuts his eyes tightly and sighs. I can't tell if this is making him feel better or worse but then I notice the pain etched across his face. So I start rubbing his shoulders again, and I get lost in the warmth of his skin, the powerful strength of his muscles despite his very tender heart just below.

He groans.

"Good?" I ask.

"So good. Don't stop," he pleads.

I shift as I lean into him, my thighs moving over his hips. I now am straddling his firm ass, and I can only hope that he can't feel that I'm wet. Even with all his pain, I find myself incredibly aroused. I can't seem to help myself when I am this close to him.

He shifts his hips and sighs. He's on to me. In a sweeping movement he rotates his torso, rolling over and pulling me into his arms. His lips skim up my neck.

"I'm not done," I insist.

"No, you're not," he agrees. "But now we're changing course."

His lips find mine and every part of him is pressed against me. I sense the quiet fire is about to engulf us, and I gasp when I feel his powerful arousal.

"What…you didn't realize what you were doing to me?" he asks in a low voice, as he presses his desire against me, over me, through me.

My fingers begin to touch him with heated intentions. "I was trying to calm your mind, not get you worked up," I lament, secretly pleased that he wants me even in his dark moments. It is a darkness that makes me want to shine around every one of his corners. I want to give him light.

"This does calm my mind, baby. I need this…I _really_ need this." We fall into each other in the tug and pull of love before surrendering to our hunger completely.

I feel a burning as his lips move over me. "I fucking love you," he whispers against my feverish skin.

I wonder for a moment if he doesn't understand the depth of my love, that in my darkest moments I have fallen to my knees and prayed for guidance so we can fulfill our destiny to be together.

"I fucking love you _more_," I assure him, as I pull my legs apart and beckon him inside.

I feel his agony lifting, and he gives me a wicked smile.

"Impossible," he responds, teasing my nipples with his tongue as his fingers slide into my wetness.

"_More_!" I insist. He must know that I yield a power over him, but I want him to understand that he owns me too.

He smiles at my double meaning and pushes himself up onto his knees. I watch him take his cock and rub it against me. "I'll show you more," he says darkly.

"Bring it on, my love."

He pushes into me, and my back arches as my nails sink into his ass. "Fuck, Bella!" He pulls back almost all the way out and then pushes back in again.

I begin to lose myself as each thrust comes harder and faster. I hook my ankles together at his lower back and hold on for dear life. I need it hard, as if his force will knock the fear right out of me.

In between thrusts his fingers twist my nipples and his teeth rake along my neck. "You _are_ more, Bella," he growls.

"Yes," I chant as I pull his hair so that his head falls back and our wild eyes meet. "And you belong to me."

_Hello, cavewoman, welcome to the jungle_

And my caveman responds accordingly, sweeping me into his arms before he pushes me back into the mattress with his powerful hips. I watch his fiery expression and realize that the hard raw fierceness of us is also just what he needs right now.

When I begin to feel the rumbling deep inside, I let it roll. I thrash and moan, and beg him to never let me go. He watches me with wonder and the deepest satisfaction. In this moment he understands that for me, it's him. It will always be him.

Right before his final thrusts he pauses and presses his lips to my ear. "No one ever will touch what we have, baby…no one."

And that is all the more I need.

.

.

* * *

_Was Edward's reaction what you expected? Do you think we're done with Tanya?...I love to hear from you...**  
**_

_**A very special shout out to a group of reader/regular reviewers that have been with me since the first month or so of posting (when I only had a small handful of readers) and have stuck with me through this whole long journey: Sonjita, rpattzdude, MDTwiwriter, LadyTx, ImwithPattz, Mimi53, atbatbatb and Renata Nunes. I'm sending you guys virtual hugs and my heartfelt thanks.**_

There will be a teaser on the Work of Art forum Wednesday http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

Remove spaces and turn (dot) into .

Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

See you next Saturday...


	57. Chapter 57  Captain Fantastic

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.

_**My Work of Art team mates are pros and keep me on my game: Thank you to my beta, TwilightZoner and my pre-readers, CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen.**_

There were many fun suggestions about what could be done with Tanya, but my favorite is from Twilighted reader, Farlilok: _"I vote that Rose, Alice and Bella take Tanya out to the beach, strip her down, shave her head, tie her to a surfboard, cover her with honey and let the sea gulls have her!" _So creative Farlilok!…but first let's take her away from Malibu and head South to Venice Beach where the crazies are...she'll be right at home.

.

* * *

**Work of Art / Chapter Fifty-Seven / Captain Fantastic**

_"What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others." ~Pericles_**  
**

.

"Well you can't change your phone number. That's the number MOMA and so many others have for you. You'd have to use a forwarding number prompt which would defeat the purpose," Jasper explains to Edward as we wait for our table.

It isn't that crowded tonight at Firefly, but Edward requested a special table in the alcove near the fireplace for our dinner.

"Did you block Tanya's number?" Alice asks.

"Yes," sighs a frustrated Edward. "But then she just calls from other numbers. I have to let every call, except people from my contact list, go to voice mail, and then I have to listen to all of them."

"That sucks," Alice responds.

What Edward hasn't mentioned is that every time his phone rings now he tenses and his eyes get stormy. It's wearing him out, but I don't know what to do about it. The bitch seems to be a shadow following us everywhere. I keep hoping she will get the message and give up, but there is no sign of her surrendering yet.

"Your table is ready," the maître d' offers so we follow him. This is a celebration dinner for Alice and Jasper getting engaged, and I don't want Tanya's stalking to be the subject for the evening.

"Hey guys, let's not talk about this anymore. I want the focus tonight to be on you."

"Sounds good to me." Alice grins. "Jasper is my favorite subject." He takes her hand, and she smiles lovingly at him.

"So how were your parents about the news, man?" Edward asks.

"They're really happy. I know for a long time they wanted me to end up with one of those San Marino blue bloods, but over time they've come to realize that Alice is the perfect girl for me."

"Yeah, and they're even insisting we have the wedding at their house," Alice chimes in.

"Which means they're paying for it." Jasper grins.

"And I always wanted a garden wedding-so it's perfect." Alice glows as she explains the details.

Despite Jasper's parent's help, my resourceful girl is doing the website design for a wedding dress designer in exchange for her dress, and one of the printers she deals with at Disney is insisting on doing her elaborate invitation design for next to nothing.

She has thought of everything, and I am reminded of the conversation we had at Rose's wedding-how Alice had planned her wedding out years ago. That explains how she has moved so fast with her plans already. I'm not surprised to realize that Alice will be a wedding force to be reckoned with.

"And the date?" I ask, since I will let the production company know right away about my schedule for that weekend.

"June fifth-you will be able to come…I mean with your shooting schedule and everything?"

"Are you kidding? Nothing could keep me away."

"Well, all of that is well and good, but I want to know the most important thing. Where are you going for your honeymoon?" Edward teases.

"My vote was to go to Maui and relax," Jasper responds.

"And I wanted Italy." Alice smiles.

"Two very different honeymoons," I say, laughing. "So who won?"

"We both did," Jasper says diplomatically. "We're going to Maui right after the wedding since we'll probably be wiped out from all the partying, and then for our first anniversary we'll take a big trip to Italy."

"Perfect," Edward agrees.

We watch the waiter pop open the champagne, and as Edward lifts his glass to toast our friends, I am able to lift my glass without a hint of envy for all that Alice and Jasper have. After all, observing them gives me hope that a happily ever after can actually happen.

.

A couple of hours later, happy and full, we wait in front of the restaurant for the valets to get our cars. Alice smooths the skirt of her halter dress right before Jasper reaches down and kisses her shoulder. His car is the first to arrive. We share farewell hugs all around.

"Thanks guys, that was so much fun," Alice says happily.

"Our pleasure," Edward responds. I am delighted with how well they are getting along. Alice has really come to adore Edward, and I think he feels the same.

Right after they drive off Edward's car is pulled up, and as I go to get into passenger seat, the valet notices an envelope on my side of the windshield.

"Here, miss," he says as he hands it to me. I thank him and put it on my lap as I buckle my seatbelt.

"What's that?" Edward asks with panic in his voice. He has noticed the envelope and that it's addressed to him. Before I can respond, he suddenly jumps out of the car and twists and turns, evidentially looking for whoever left it. My stomach starts turning.

He finally climbs back in and slams his hands on the steering wheel. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"What, Edward?"

"It's Tanya. She must be watching us. Fuck!"

"This is from Tanya?" I shriek, holding it up by the corner like it is going to explode.

"Yes," he growls. "I've been getting them in the mail at home. But this is the first one I've gotten like this."

"What do they say?"

"You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do. Wouldn't you want to know if it was sent to me?"

He sighs heavily. "Yes, I would demand to know. Usually they are sexual. She always had a crazy edge, but now I think she's completely lost her mind."

"Can I read this letter?"

"It's going to upset you…but I'm not going to stop you. Unfortunately, we are both in this mess now, aren't we?"

I carefully tear open the envelope. The first thing I pull out is a fancy printed version of one of those certificates kids would make for mother or father's day._ This certificate good for one car wash_, or _good for doing the dishes for a week_. But instead the offering here is of a graphic nature.

_This Certificate Good for One Deluxe Blow Job_

I feel dizzy as I grasp the elaborate edges of the certificate. There is another paper in the envelope so I pull it out not wanting to miss the full effect of her gesture.

_Hey Baby,_

_Remember how I used to make love to you until you were begging for mercy? I could always make you feel good. Remember how afterward you would tell me that I am the only woman you could ever love?_

_We just need to talk so I can make you understand that I know now we are meant to be together. Let me show you how things can be better than ever._

_I'm ready for you baby. I can't wait to have you again. Give me a call before the offer expires._

_Love you,_

_Tanya_

I shove everything back in the envelope so hard that I rip the flap. "Damn, Edward," I say with a tight voice. "Good God, I can't believe the nerve…what a fucking crazy, bitch!"

"I warned you."

"She isn't going to ever back down, is she?"

He shakes his head. "Give that to me, Bella. Jasper says I need to keep these as evidence. He's going to help me find a good lawyer who can deal with her."

_And I'm leaving in two weeks_, I think. The dark thoughts are blinding me like the blackest silk scarf tied tightly over my eyes. In my despair, I remind myself of Edward's words just before dawn on Sunday.

"No one ever will touch what we have, baby…no one."

I hope to God he's right.

.~*~..

On top of everything, it is also my last week at the gallery. Each drive to work this week gets a little tougher for me. But by Wednesday I am choked up as I pull into the parking lot. Although the actual work is the same old stuff, it's an emotional roller coaster in every other aspect.

On Monday, Carlisle had sent an announcement to our email list to explain my departure and exciting career opportunity. As a result, most of the artists we deal with have called to wish me the best as well as some of my favorite customers. I am particularly blown away by the Meyers who send me a gorgeous arrangement from the elite florist, Mark's Gardens, with a touching note of congratulations and well wishes.

Every day I am taken out to lunch, and even Jacob is in a celebratory mood when he takes me for burgers on Wednesday.

"I've met someone," he proclaims in between munching ketchup soaked fries.

I grin ear to ear. "Really? Tell all, mister. What's her name? Where did you meet her?"

"I was at a party for my nephew at this laser tag place in the valley. You wear these special vests with flashing lights and run around with laser guns shooting people in the dark."

"Sounds fabulous," I say sarcastically. "Don't tell me you met her there."

"Yup!" He laughs and takes a sip of his soda. "While we were playing there was this hot looking girl on the other team that kept chasing me around trying to gun me down. She was hardcore. Finally she cornered me at the back of the place, and I'm not sure how it happened, but I kissed her."

"Really? Must have been all that adrenaline fired up in your system. Nothing like a girl trying to kill you to turn you on."

"Next thing you know we peel our flashing vests off and are making out in the dark and one of the dudes that works there has to break us up. It was so hot, Bella."

"Is her name Laura Croft or something?"

I can't derail him. "No, it's Leah, and guess what?"

"Well, she's good with a gun. Is she a cop?"

"No, she works for a vet. But listen Bella…she loves sports more than I do!"

"That can't be possible."

"It's true. We made out on her couch last night watching the Lakers game. She gets really worked up about her teams."

"Go, Leah!" I cheer.

He rolls his eyes. "You're just jealous. I knew you would be."

I roll my eyes back but in a much more exaggerated way. "Yes, I'm soooo jealous. Actually, I'm happy for you, Jacob. She sounds like your dream girl."

"I think she is Bella. We're going to the Dodger game tonight."

"Well, if she gets worked up at the game, get her in the car before you do her, okay?"

I'm enjoying teasing him, but I also feel warm and fuzzy knowing Jacob has met someone who will give him the love he deserves.

"Good advice," he responds nodding, deep in thought.

Apparently love is in the air.

.

Right before closing I get a call from my lawyer, Jackson.

"Bella, there's a problem."

"Problem?" Oh no, I can't take much more drama. If something has happened with the job I think I will completely lose it.

"Yes, ArtOne is shooting their promo campaign for their launch next week, and they are going to need to get some footage of you. They'll need you in New York by Tuesday for an early shoot on Wednesday."

"Next week?" I ask weakly.

"Is there a conflict we can't move around? I thought this was your last week at work. Besides, it will give you a chance to check out the temporary housing and figure out what you need to bring."

"Well, it is my last week at work, but I was packing up my apartment next week because I'm going to be in Paris the week after, returning just before my start date."

"Let me see what I can get them to do with the schedule and meanwhile, look into getting help packing. You are getting a relocation allowance, so just bring the movers in sooner. They have professional packers."

My head starts pounding from the pressure. I don't like the idea of strangers touching my stuff and was hoping to be able to pack myself. But now I may not have the time.

"Do I have a choice with this?"

"Your contract isn't in effect for a few weeks still, but doing it will get things off on a good foot with them-show you're a team player. I'll build it up that you had several important things set up but you want to support the launch so you will move and cancel things. I'll make sure they love you for it."

"Okay, let me figure things out on my end."

"Great, I'll give you a call tomorrow."

.

Having learned from my previous poor judgment, I call my man first thing.

"Hey, Edward."

"What's wrong, baby? You sound stressed."

"I am. I just got a call from Jackson, and the production company needs me in New York next week to shoot some promos for the network launch."

Although he quietly sighs, he manages to resist saying _I told you so._ Edward had predicted this very thing. "If you are worried about packing, let me help you, baby. I'll pick up some stuff at the box store this afternoon and bring over take-out for dinner. And since I'm storing some of your stuff in my garage, I can start bringing packed boxes home with me."

I take a deep breath. "What would I do without you, handsome?"

"I'm not going to give you the chance to find out."

..~*~..

For my last day on Friday, Carlisle has arranged a farewell lunch at Maggianos, and Edward and Rose have been included. Esme meets us there along with Emmett, Jacob, and the guys. We are seated at a long table in a private room. Since it is a family style Italian restaurant, large bowls of salad, pasta, and chicken dishes are passed around the table.

Knowing how emotional I can get, Carlisle saves his farewell speech for dessert. He orders champagne for a toast, and when he stands and lifts his glass, I start to cry. I'm such a wimp. Edward puts his arm around me and pulls me close.

Carlisle sees my tears and gives me a warm smile. He walks over and kisses me on the top of my head before returning to his place, lifting his glass again.

"Bella, you are the daughter I always wanted. You are not just bright and beautiful, but you are a kind, loving person that everyone adores. As much as we will miss you at the gallery and studio, I want you to know how impressed we all are with you. This is an exciting time in your life, and we want you to make the most of it. Make us proud Bella…we know you will.

"Here's to your success, to Bella!"

Everyone lifts their glasses. "To Bella."

"We love you, baby!" Emmett booms.

"Yes, we do girl!" Rose agrees.

Mike pisses me off by starting the chant, "Speech, speech, speech."

_Fuck, I'm crying like a baby. How can I possibly talk in this state?_

"Go on, you can do it, love," Edward whispers in my ear as he squeezes my hand.

I look at him wide-eyed, but he nods, encouraging me on.

I slowly rise and wipe my tears with my napkin. I take a deep breath.

"You know, all of this has happened so fast that I'm not sure I believe it yet. It's like a dream. But what I do know is how much I love you guys. You have been my family, and Carlisle and Esme, you two not only became surrogate parents to me, but you brought me into your gallery. Everything you taught me, not just about art and the art business, but how to care about other people, I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

I look over at him and Esme, and they have such proud looks on their faces. I can only hope they know what they really mean to me. I take a breath and continue.

"One thing I know for sure, is that I also would not be standing here with this future at my feet if Emmett hadn't taken me under his wing and brought me into your family. I love you so much, Emmett." I glance over at Emmett and the look on his face breaks my heart. My voice cracks with the last words, and I hold the table's edge to steady myself. Edward rubs my back gently.

"You guys have taught me so much and supported me with my dreams. But we've also had such a great time along the way. Jacob you always made working on the press so much fun, and Emmett your artful handling of the clients taught me so much. And it's through you guys that I met my Rose, the greatest friend a girl could have…and of course Edward…well, I think you all know by now that he is the man of my dreams." More tears fall but at least I'm winding down.

"I could go on and on but we need to get back to work. Just thank you, all of you, from the bottom of my heart."

I feel the warmth of hugs, and everyone's well wishes come in a colorful blur. I wish I could freeze this moment, tuck it in my pocket, and bring it out whenever I felt the need to be reminded of how good things can be.

Edward drives me back to the gallery so I can gather up my stuff and wrap up the final details. Deep in thought, I twist my hair as I gaze out the window.

"Penny for your thoughts," Edward says softly.

"I was just thinking…I mean, I know it sounds strange with some of the challenges we are dealing with right now. But I was thinking how damn lucky I am."

He smiles and takes my hand in his. "You are lucky, but so are we, baby."

..~*~..

That weekend ends up being a packing marathon. Damn boxes are everywhere, and at times I find it so overwhelming that I want to walk out the front door and never stop until I am miles away. I am grateful for Edward though, because despite his feelings about my moving, he tries to make it fun. At one point I catch him trying on my little collection of skit stuff that I saved from being a Jr. camp counselor in high school. Naturally his favorite is the tall red and white striped top hat from Dr. Seuss' character, _The Cat in the Hat_.

"Only you could make Dr. Seuss hot," I lament.

When he brings me more empty boxes from the living room, he now has on the Michael Jackson silver glove and reflective aviator sunglasses.

"Nice," I comment smiling.

He grabs his crotch, rocks his hips, and moon walks a few times before tossing the stuff into the donation box.

Next time I look up he is wearing a pair of sunglasses shaped like stars, with silver glitter frames as he packs some of my art books.

"Hello, Elton John!" I tease.

"Aren't you a little young for Elton John?"

"My mom was a huge fan…I grew up on his music."

"Same with my mom. Well, I don't think Elton John would be helping anyone pack so try again, blue jean baby."

I look over and realize that he has packed a tower of boxes already, and as I examine them more closely I realize that there are drawings on the sides of many of them.

"What's this, Captain Fantastic?" I ask, moving closer. There is a loose drawing on the side of the box of a woman on a chaise lounge reading a book.

"Content descriptions, so you know what goes where."

"And this one goes where?

"Books go in your library, of course."

"Library? This is New York, handsome, I'll be living in a shoe box."

"Yet another reason to stay with me, baby. I've got a library and my books would get along with yours quite nicely."

He grins, and there is something about the damn star glasses and his sweet, playful attitude that pushes me over the edge.

I get closer and press up against him, grabbing his ass. His responding endless kiss is more than inspiring. "You know what you are doing to me, don't you? This is the first time I've ever wanted to go down on someone resembling Elton John."

"Well, I'm more than happy to be your first." He winks as he pushes the star glasses higher on his nose.

"Yeah, you'll do," I whisper as bite his neck and press my hand down over him, finding just what I'm looking for. He is already swelling and getting harder with each passing second. He moans softly as I undo his jeans and slip my hand inside.

"You're my _Rocket Man,_" I tease as I pull him free and push him back on the couch.

"Or your _Madman Across the Water_." He responds laughing, lifting to pull his jeans and boxers all the way down so he can kick them off.

I trail kisses from his lips to his chin and then down his chest before I sink to my knees and take him in my mouth. His happy moan is encouraging as my tongue takes over, swirling and licking. I stop and look up at him and those damn star glasses are still perched on the end of his nose as his head falls back with pleasure. I can't help but laugh.

"Why'd you stop, baby?" he groans, looking down.

"Those glasses-you'd make a hot rock star, you know."

"Then you could be my groupie. Along those lines, take off your shirt, baby. I want to see your breasts."

I pull off my shirt and bra then skim my breasts across his thighs as I lean forward and run my tongue from the base to the tip.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah," he gasps watching me. "Don't stop, or I'll start singing _Don't go Breaking My Heart."_

"Oh no, that song sucked." I moan as I wrap my hand around him and slowly stroke.

"Sucked? Don't talk about sucking right now unless it involves me in your mouth."

And that quiets me. I've always been told that I take direction well, and as Edward watches me make love to him with my warm mouth, lips, and tongue, I know it's true. He has one hand fondling my breast and the other gently running through my hair, but his eyes hungrily watch me and I give him quite a show.

"So close," he moans.

"Are you going to _Burn Down the Mission_ for me?"

"Hell, yes."

And when I feel him on the very edge, I remember my research, taking a deep relaxing breath, tipping my head back and pushing my tongue forward and flat. I slowly take him all the way in until I can feel him in my throat. I can't see his reaction, but when I start swallowing he loses it. He comes in violent waves, and I manage to keep my focus until he is quivering puddle dangling off the edge of the couch.

He pulls me up into his arms, his chest still heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He pulls off the glasses and throws them aside.

"Holy hell, baby. What was that about?"

"Did you like it?"

"Are you kidding? What do you think? That was amazing." He takes my chin and tips it so I'm looking up at him. "But Bella, this isn't a competition. You don't have anything to prove you know."

"I know it's childish, Edward, but I want anything you've enjoyed with another woman to be better with me. I want to fulfill your every need and desire."

"Well, I love you for that, but don't you know that no one has ever made me feel the way you do? You're the absolute best I've ever had in every way. Before I met you I used to see an attractive woman and imagine how I would fuck her, but all of that is so done now. When I think of making love, or even when I'm just plain horny, all I think about is you."

"Really?"

"Yes, and it's not just because I'm crazy in love with you. You are so hot, Bella…you are naturally the sexiest woman I've ever been with."

He kisses me and pulls me closer. "Hey, where is that mirror you just took down."

"Right there." I point towards the right wall where it leans with some of my framed prints.

"Lean it over here in front of us, and then take off your jeans," he instructs in a low voice.

"No, no mirrors!" I exclaim, remembering how embarrassed I was watching myself in the studio.

"Do it, Bella. I'm not going to let you say no."

I hesitantly get up and move the mirror, then shimmy my pants and thong off. He lays my T-shirt over the edge of the couch, spreads his legs and instructs me to sit against him facing out.

"Watch love," he says softly as he pulls my legs apart until they are pressed against his and he slips his hand between my legs.

How can I watch anything when he is touching me like this? I'm already aroused from pleasing him, so there is no slow build-up; every feeling is amplified. I lean back into his chest, closing my eyes as my head falls back on his shoulder.

"Oh, Edward," I moan as my legs pull further apart, pressing my soft flesh against his strong thighs.

Hi fingers circle slowly over me and dip back inside my heat. His left hand moves up my torso and starts to gently pinch my nipple. I arch my back, pushing my breast into his hand.

"Bella, fuck, you're beautiful." He kisses my neck and when I slowly open my eyes just enough to squint, I can see that he's still watching me in the mirror.

"I see you peeking, Bella. Come on…open your eyes wider so you can really see."

I give up the fight and open my eyes wide. The visual of me open against him with his hands all over me, is almost more than I can take.

I watch him as he lifts both hands to cup my breasts and when I push my ass back in response, I realize that he is fully aroused again. His hand moves back down and his nimble fingers speed up.

I'm drunk with it now. I can't help the moaning and grinding. I'm watching as if I'm starring in my very own erotic French film. But this isn't acting, so it's a million times hotter.

"Tell me when you are close," he demands between ragged breaths.

"Close," I moan as the current sizzles between my legs.

He takes my hips and lifts me before pushing me back down on top of his sizable erection. And all the while I get to watch. Do you have any idea how hot that looks when it's Edward pushing you down on his cock? I'm going to enshrine that fucking mirror when this is over.

And without missing a beat his hands are wandering: pressing and circling, pinching and stroking, while he rocks in and out of me. It would be impossible for me to stop observing at this point. It's the most erotic thing I've ever seen. Just the look of his hooded dark eyes as he watches would be enough, but I also get the sound bites and special effects too.

Only I haven't figured out yet how to come with my eyes open, so when I unravel my eyes are pressed shut, but I replay the image of him touching me in my mind and it's almost as good as watching it real time. My climax sparks his, so all eyes are closed but the mirror still sees.

When we have settled enough to catch our breaths and close our legs, he turns me towards him.

"Do you understand what I'm saying now?"

"Yeah, I think I'm finally getting it handsome. I'm hot-really hot."

"Yes, you are, baby. And that's only one of the reasons why I will put up with a year of you in New York and us having to circle our wagons since my fucking ex-girlfriend is back. Cause one day you'll return home and marry me. And when you do, I'll have a big mirror facing our bed."

"Really?" I whisper.

"Oh yes," he says darkly as he kisses me. "And the things I will do to you girl." He kisses me again. "As you watch…"

"Yes?"

"I promise you baby…it'll be worth the wait."

.

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**_Do you love Artward taking care of his woman? Your reviews inspire me...yes, they do!_**

There will be a teaser on the Work of Art forum Wednesday http:/www (dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f+44&t=11034

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Join me on twitter: http:/twitter (dot) com/abstractway

See you next Saturday, you won't want to miss it... xoxo


	58. Chapter 58  The Flickering Light

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.

_**What would I do without my girls! Thank you to my beta, TwilightZoner and my pre-readers, CallSignC30 and Ms. Carmen.**_

_I finally upgraded my antique twitter to tweetdeck and now I'm seeing tweets from people I hadn't seen before. So if you tweeted me in the past and I didn't respond (and you don't have a locked account) most likely I never saw your tweet-so sorry!...but I've got it corrected now_

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**Work of Art / Chapter Fifty-Eight / The Flickering Light**

_Just remember - when you think all is lost, the future remains.__  
__~Robert H. Goddard_

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"What are you doing?" I turn toward Edward as he reaches out for a ticket the machine just spit out.

"Parking," he answers.

"Yeah, I see that. You aren't just dropping me off?"

"No I want to walk you in. It will give me a few more minutes with you."

"But you know how it is at the airport now; you can't go in past security."

"I don't care-I hate those rushed hugs at curbside. I want a really good hug today."

"Well, for all this effort you're getting a big kiss too."

"See, never question my strategy, woman." He smirks.

"Okay, I'll remember that, handsome."

.

It's funny how in these moments you don't care that you're surrounded by a buzzing swarm of anxious travelers and overzealous security guards. All you care about is that your man is pressed tightly against you and kissing you like you're all that matters in the world.

He holds onto me extra long before we finally separate.

"Call me when you arrive, okay?"

"I will." Feeling my usual pre-flight nerves, I look at my watch. "I better get moving." I smile and kiss him one last time before I turn to hand the guard my driver's license and boarding pass.

Rather than leaving, he watches me as I wait in the security line. When I've loaded the plastic trays with my stuff and have been passed through, I turn and in the distance I see him still standing there. He looks positively lost. I step to the side and pull out my cell phone to call him.

"Are you okay?" I ask gently.

"Are you?"

"I'm not sure."

"Me either, " he agrees.

"Ugh, what are we going to be like when I really leave for the actual move?"

In the distance I can see him run his fingers through his hair. "It will be like a scene in a movie where I am yelling for you not to go and security is dragging me out the doors."

_Why is it that I can picture this in my mind and totally believe it could happen?_

"You are killing me here, Edward. Next time maybe you should dump me on the curb."

"Don't say that…look, I'll be good. He is walking backwards as he holds the phone. See I'm leaving. But one last thing before I do."

"Yes?"

"I love you, baby," he says so sweetly.

"I love you too."

..~*~..

"Ms. Swan right?" The man in the gray sweater with a matching gray complexion is looking down at his clipboard.

"Yes, Bella."

"Yes, I see here. You are moving to unit twelve 12D in two weeks. Okay, this won't be your unit but the layout is the same. You'll get the idea."

"I appreciate you showing it to me. I'm just in town for a couple of days and my hotel's just a few blocks away. I want to see the space to figure out what I should bring with me."

He pulls out a large ring of keys and starts sorting through them. The designer lights in the long hallway aren't too bright and he appears to have trouble reading the numbers on the keys. I wait patiently.

"If you don't mind my asking, where are you from?"

"L.A."

He chuckles. "The L.A. people have the hardest time. They're used to a lot more living space. But still, this is pretty good-it's a great neighborhood. Even though this is called _temporary housing_, some people end up staying here when they see what else is out there."

He finally finds the key and pushes open the door.

He isn't kidding about the size of the space. I am having spatial shock. Seriously. My bedroom at home was larger than this whole apartment…and don't get me started comparing this to Edward's house…I mean French doors looking out on the Pacific Ocean? Here you have narrow windows looking out at the office building across the street where I can watch the busy worker bees doing their work. It's similar to what I've experienced in almost every New York hotel room I've stayed in, but it feels so much different knowing this will be my new home, even if it's temporary.

"So this is your living room," he says grandly as he waves over a sleek loveseat and armchair with a contemporary cherrywood coffee table in front of it. The carpets are high end berber wool in a warm taupe. A flat screen T.V. is perched on a high tech media cart. There is a framed black and white print of the Statue of Liberty at sunset above the couch, perhaps to remind me where I am in case I forget.

"Your kitchen is over here." Despite the fancy granite counter and stainless details, the kitchen looks like the galley on an airplane. There is a microwave and coffeemaker with a tiny built in refrigerator below. Even the sink is miniature. He opens up a cupboard to show a small collection of white plates, bowls and coffee mugs.

"No stove?"

"No, just the burners for heating up soup or boiling water, most people do take out."

"The bedroom is back here." The double bed pretty much fills up the room. When Edward visits I don't think he'll fit on this bed. The only other furniture is a tall narrow dresser and a bedside table with a lamp. The bedspread is a contemporary design in various shades of beige. I hate beige; something about it makes me want to scream. I find consolation in the idea that at least I can easily replace the bedspread.

Gray-guy watches me as I peek inside the small closet and marble walled compact bathroom.

"Can I hang art on the walls?" I ask

"We would prefer that you didn't. We have to patch and repaint then charge you a crazy amount of money."

"I see."

"The cleaning service comes once a week. You can have them more often for an additional fee."

I have to admit, the place feels very clean, but somehow that adds to the sterile feeling.

We walk back into the "living room" and I notice a little table and chair. He slaps the top of it. "You can eat here or use it as a desk. The internet hook up is here and comes with the package." On top of the desk/table is a notebook that he lifts up and fans through it. "Here is a reference notebook we've put together about all the places you might want to know about in the area…dry cleaners, best bagels, drug store, gym, etc. There are take-out menus and maps of nearby neighborhoods. Everyone picks up and delivers."

"Thanks, that will be helpful."

"Most deliver really late in case you work really long hours."

"How'd you know?"

"That's pretty common around here." He shrugs his shoulders. Gray-man has seen it all. "Well, that's about it. Okay, ready to go?"

My heart is thumping and I'm trying to figure out what is freaking me out the most. The overabundance of beige? The framed faux artwork where my Edward Angel painting should hang? Or is it the fact that I have never felt more alone and terrified in my life?

"Actually, would you mind if I took a moment longer to myself?"

He gives me a quizzical look but nods. "I guess that's okay. The door will lock behind you so just make sure you pull it closed tightly."

When Gray-man leaves I sit on the edge of the couch and watch the office workers sit at their computers while the tears stream down my face. The emotions hit me in large waves until I am sobbing.

_What am I doing here? What have I gotten myself into?_

After getting enough toilet paper off the roll to gather my tears, I fish out my cell phone and blur my fingers across the screen. The sound of her voice immediately grounds me.

"Hey baby! How's New York?"

"Rose," I sigh and take a deep breath. It catches in my throat.

"Oh no…what happened, Bella?"

"Nothing happened really, it's just that I'm sitting in the most bleak little shoebox that will soon be my temporary housing and Rose…"

"Go on, baby."

"I'm just not sure that I can do this."

"Oh, I see…the hard part is hitting you. You are in this empty plain shoebox wondering why you left your beautiful life for this leap in the dark."

"Yes, yes." I'm relieved that my girl understands.

"But baby, the bright beautiful light hasn't hit you yet. Yes, you are going to have some dark moments like this where you are lonely or insecure or exhausted or angry. But you have to remember that this is the path to the extraordinary. Your journey has just begun, so you can't give up yet."

"You make it sound like a magical journey."

"Well, it fucking is! Do I really need to convince you of that? Look we just need to speed up finding you a better place to live. If you don't call some of the friends whose numbers I gave you, I am going to call them and have them chase you down and take you out. You've got to push through this, Bella. "

"Well, I guess it's too late to get out of it anyway. The contracts are signed."

"Yes, but you've got to set the shoebox aside and remind yourself why you are there. You do want to do this show and work with all of these artists. You're going to bring their lives and work to the public. How fucking cool is that?"

"You are the best friend ever, Rose," I say as I feel my spirit lifting a bit. "I also think it was just so hard saying goodbye to Edward this morning. He looked so lost. Can you do me a favor and check on him later?"

"Sure, baby. Have you called him yet?"

"Yes, right after I arrived. He was painting but he took the call right away. He said he'd been waiting to hear from me."

"You know, Bella, you need to remember that although he may be in agony over the temporary separation, he's really proud of you. I wish you could've heard him explaining the job to Lauren. He's your biggest fan."

..~*~..

"The fabulous Bella Swan!" A young man of questionable sexual orientation gestures dramatically as I approach him bright and early in my hotel lobby."

"And you are?" I laugh. With his dazzling smile and devilish look, I can't help but immediately like this guy.

"I'm William Remington Worthy the third, but you, my dear, can call me Billy." He does a sweeping bow.

_Definitely gay. _His blond hair is parted in the middle and pushed back by the sunglasses on top of his head-all adding to his slamming seventies look. He grins and snaps his gum. I've found my first new friend in New York.

"I'm your Production Manager and all around go-to guy. If you are sweet with me I'll show you the best way to charm our moody director, I will tell you when wardrobe picks out something that makes you ass look big on camera, and I will steer you to the best salons for your Brazilian waxes. In other words, I am your flamboyant and essential right hand."

"Well, how do you do, Billy?" I curtsy. "I'm so very pleased to meet you."

He loops his arm through mine and walks me out to the waiting car. "I can tell already, we're going to be best friends!"

Before he opens the door he gives me my first piece of advice. "Be nice to Cecilia. If she likes you, life will be as charmed as a nineteen-forties Hepburn movie. If she doesn't like you, it'll be more like _Chucky Returns_."

I slip in the car next to a woman with a tight ponytail and thick-framed black glasses. She is typing out a text on her iPhone. She finally looks up.

"Hi Cecilia, I'm Bella. Great to meet you."

She tips her head down and examines me over the top of her glasses.

"You just earned Brownie points for being on time. I can't tell you how much I distain sitting in a waiting car while the talent curls their eyelashes or whatever the fuck they do while I wait."

I give her a sincere look. "Well, I was raised to believe that being late is rude."

"Great, then we are going to get along just fine." She turns back to her vibrating iPhone and Billy nudges me. When I look over he winks and smiles. And as we whiz along Fifth Avenue, I feel the first blush of hope that things are going to be all right.

It ends up being a crazy day spanning two studios and a number of set-ups, some with just me and some including other talent from the network. The energy is intoxicating, and everyone treats me really well. I manage to hit most of my marks and only mess up my lines once.

At the end of the day, Billy is encouraging. "Wow, you did great girl! I'm impressed."

"Gee, thanks," I reply smiling. "It really helps that everyone has made me feel so welcome."

"Well, I know you need to rest tonight, but tomorrow will be a shorter day due to the location, so we'll take you out for dinner afterwards."

"Sounds like fun," I respond. "Thanks for all your help today, Billy. You're so great."

"You're welcome, my dear. We're going to have a great season. I can tell already."

.

My second day in New York I learn several important lessons. The first is that when I talk to Edward on the phone about my new experiences, I'm going to need to heavily edit. He was already in a funk when I called him after the first day of shooting. But when I told him about the temporary housing he really came undone, insisting that he'll come out and find someplace better for me to live if I need help. Just the idea of not being able to hang up art upsets him, but I know when he sees the tiny space and bleak view he's going to steam. I tried to ease his concerns, but by the time we hang up I could tell he was still worried, making me realize that his anxiety about me leaving is going to manifest in many unexpected ways.

As for other lessons, I learned that not everyone that works in television is brilliant. Consequently my confidence in my own ability has grown exponentially. One of the co-hosts for a show about performance art is poised on camera, but her behavior off camera is another matter. She appears to have an extreme case of ADD whenever the camera stops rolling and can't string two sentences together without being distracted by something else.

The final important lesson I learn this evening at our production dinner: that Cecilia is a lot more fun and forthcoming after a couple of glasses of wine. This is the time to win her over and secure your golden place in her production line-up of favorites.

Once she gets going, Cecilia's stories of production mishaps, told with her snarky edge, have us all rolling with laughter. Her sauciest is the dramatic tale that took place when she was line producer for the cooking channel. She went into the dressing room of their top chef to leave a schedule revision when he was supposed to be on location and she accidently walked in on him changing. Boy, was she surprised to see he was wearing women's lingerie under his chef's coat. And we aren't just talking panties.

"A frilly corset and thigh high stockings over his shaved legs," she shares. Evidentially the memory still unsettles her. "He was a big dude too-must have had the corset custom made. I would bleach my eyes if it would erase the memory of how he looked. We made an agreement; he wouldn't have me fired as long as I didn't reveal his secret. I figure as long as I leave his name out I'm still holding up my part of the bargain."

Of course, I can't help but think that I will always watch the cooking shows that men host in a completely different way from now on. For God's sake, I hope it wasn't Mario Batali because that would definitely not be pretty. Besides, any man that wears those goofy clogs on camera probably wouldn't wear fancy lingerie. I take a sip of wine and work to push the whole idea out of my head.

.

I am out of the shower, about to crawl into bed and call Edward, when my phone rings. I smile thinking he beat me to the punch. But when I pick up my phone I see that it is Rose calling.

"Hey, Rose."

"Bella." There is a pause and my stomach sinks. I have never heard her voice sound so serious.

"What's up? Is something wrong?"

"It's Edward, Bella. Something's happened…although I'm sure he's okay. But I know you would want to know."

"Oh my God, Rose…what?"

"I was at his place earlier…what a fucking nightmare."

"What do you mean?" I gasp.

"I got a frantic call from him around seven. He had come home from the bookstore and was starting to make something to eat when he looked out the window and realized that someone was in his hot tub."

I stop breathing.

"So he immediately assumes that you've come back early to surprise him and he starts taking off his clothes and heading outside to join you. It isn't until he is about ten feet away that he realizes it's not you."

"Oh, God. Please tell me that it wasn't Tanya, Rose, please…"

"Sorry babe, but that crazy fucking bitch is not going down without a fight. She isn't used to not getting what she wants. She freaked him out so badly that I think he went into shock. Seriously Bella, he rushed back into the house and locked the door."

I feel my insides ripping apart as I curl forward. I picture the blonde goddess naked in his hot tub, her perfect breasts rising above the bubbles and her long legs spread as she waits for him to join her. Bile rises up my throat as Rose continues.

"He called the police first but he didn't think they took him seriously when he explained that his ex-girlfriend was in his hot tub and wanting to have sex with him. I guess the dispatcher asked if she had threatened him in any way-L.A.P.D. is really busy with murders and drug busts, evidentially they are slow to react to crazy female ex's demanding sex."

"Figures. Reverse sexism…they'd probably come if it was a woman calling about a man," I insist, angry.

"He must have called me immediately after. He was heading into a panic attack. I was able to calm him down enough to speak, and we agreed that he needed to get out of the house. I'm not even sure if he took anything with him, but we agreed that he would go to Jasper's and I would head to his place to deal with the psycho. I mean I'm seriously worried about this woman's mental health and obviously so is Edward."

"And…"

"Well, he never showed up at Jasper's."

My mind is flooded with the worst thoughts. "And the psycho?"

"Don't worry-he wasn't with her if that's what you are worrying about. I found her wrapped in a towel waiting for him to come back. I had to drive the loon to her apartment since she'd taken a taxi there. I wanted to make sure she was off his property."

"Oh Rose, this is so fucked up."

"No doubt about that," she agrees.

"So we need to find Edward?" A fiery determination sparks inside of me.

"Well, all I can imagine is that if he didn't go to Jasper's or my place that he went to his Aunt's. I'm sure he would feel safest there."

"I think that's a good guess. Have you tried to reach her?"

"Well, I've called there and got the voicemail. But I'm going to keep trying."

"Rose, I have to know…what did Tanya say when you drove her home."

"She rambled on about her epiphany that she and Edward have always been soul mates and that it's just going to take some time for him to realize it. It all came to her in a dream when she was in Alaska."

"Oh, this is really not what we need right now."

"I know baby, I know. I tried to reason with her but she wouldn't listen to me. At one point I was losing it and was very tempted to slap the shit out of her, but if anything that would just fuel her fire."

"Okay, I'm going to try calling Edward, then Ann, and then I'm moving my flight. I wonder if I can get something in a few hours?"

"It's what, almost midnight there now? There aren't any flights until early morning. Anyway isn't tomorrow the last day of your shoot?"

"I don't care about that right now."

"Well, I would wait to change your flight until you talk to him. As it was, weren't you coming back in the evening tomorrow?"

"Yes, but…"

"Before you bail on the show, please just talk to him and see what _he_ wants."

"We're supposed to leave for Paris on Sunday, Rose."

"And you will. Just have some faith in him. You can't drop everything and run back to L.A. every time something bad happens. That won't instill any confidence in him if you don't think he can take care of himself. I mean, how would you feel if he found out an old boyfriend tried to hook up with you again, so he jumped on the first plane there?"

"I wouldn't like it."

"Exactly."

"So let's take this one step at a time."

"Okay, thanks Rose."

.

As soon as we hang up I call his number, but it goes directly to voicemail. I leave a message telling him that I've talked to Rose and for him to call me as soon as he gets the message-even if it's in the middle of the night.

I try Ann's number next and thankfully, she picks up the phone on the forth ring. She sounds relieved to hear from me.

"Bella. I was just about to call you. I wanted to make sure you knew he was here. I've been too busy talking with Edward until now to even call."

"Thank goodness, Ann. I just got off the phone with Rose and I'm so worried about him. I just tried his cell phone but he didn't pick up."

"Don't worry Bella, he's okay…shaken up, but he'll be okay. He just wanted to get away from the house because he didn't know what she might do…if she would show up again."

I take a deep breath. I hope Ann isn't just underplaying the situation knowing I'm so far away and can't really do anything.

"Can I talk to him?"

"You can try. Let me check…he went to lie down. He had taken his anxiety medication and then had a couple of drinks while I was making dinner. He didn't eat much so he was pretty out of it. Maybe you can cheer him up."

"I'll try," I promise, steeling myself for whatever mood he'll be in.

There is a rustle and then muted sounds. Ann must have covered the mouthpiece on her phone.

"Bellllaaaaa," he sighs. I can hear the alcohol and medication in his voice.

"Oh, Edward." I can't help it-my voice breaks as I say his name.

"Don't cry, baby. Why are you crying? Is it cause you miss me?"

"No…I mean, of course I miss you terribly. But I'm crying because I'm so worried about you and what happened."

"Damn, no, no, no…did Rose call you? I asked her not to. Ahhhhh!"

"Edward, if the situation was reversed wouldn't you want to know?"

"Fuck, do you have any old boyfriends lurking in New York?" he slurs.

"No Edward, my point is that she knows that I need to always know you're all right."

"I'm all right," he whispers. There is nothing convincing about his words.

"That girl is crazy Edward, and I don't want her around you. Just the thought of her in your hot tub makes me crazy mad. I don't know what I'll do if she tries anything when I'm around."

"The worst part is that I thought she was you, baby. I was going to get in and I almost had a fucking heart attack when I finally realized it was her. It was like a horror film or that _Fatal Attraction_ bullshit."

"I'm going to get on the next plane, Edward."

"Ohhhh baby. Finish your thing there. It's important and I'm okay, really. Ann's looking out for me. My crazy ex won't find me here…I'm staying with Ann until we leave for Paris."

"What about your work?" Hiding out at Ann's sounds like he's going backwards.

"Work? I can't fucking work anyway. I haven't for a while…and you know what? I don't even care. Fuck it all."

My heart sinks, but I try to convince myself that Edward's high and not thinking clearly. "Oh, Edward. Ann says you aren't eating either."

"I'm so tired, baby. So tired." His voice is fading.

"Go to sleep, my love, and I'll call you in the morning. I'll be on my way back to you by tomorrow night."

"I love you, Bella. Come back to me," he moans softly.

"I love you too, and I will, baby. I will."

..~*~..

After a restless night and despite my exhaustion, I get up with a steely determination to get through the day. The sooner it's over, the sooner I will be headed towards home and Edward. If I sleep on the plane maybe I will be together enough to drive to Ojai. I know this plan is insane, but it gives me the buzz to keep going that coffee never could.

During a mid-morning break I call Ann.

"How is he?" I ask, dispensing with formalities.

"Still asleep. I heard him wandering around several times in the middle of the night but last I checked he was gone to the world."

"He says he's going to hide with you until we leave for Paris. And he said he hasn't been painting, Ann. This isn't like Edward…I'm so worried about him."

There's a long pause. "I know Bella, I'm worried too. And as much as I love having him here, I'm not sure this is the best thing for him right now."

"But what's it going to take to make things better?" I wonder out loud.

"As crazy as it sounds," she replies, "I think he needs a kick in the ass. Unfortunately I'm like his mom was…too coddling. I can't seem to help myself. I really think he has the strength to overcome all of this; he just needs to get tough and find it."

"You may be right," I agree, my mind racing. That's the one strategy I never try with Edward, even though it sometimes works for Rose. But Rose's gone soft on him too since the announcement of my new job.

Suddenly a crazy thought comes into my head, really crazy. But it also feels right. It's worth a try.

"I have an idea, Ann. Let me call you back."

I scroll through my contact list until I find the number I'm looking for. I press the send button, feeling anxious yet determined.

"Hey Beautiful, how's my favorite star?"

For the first time, his flirting and huge, brash personality fill me with hope.

"Honestly, Mr. Masen, I'm not doing well at all. You know I wouldn't ask this if it wasn't extremely serious. Please…I really need your help."

"Did Jackson drop the ball? I'm going to kick his ass if he didn't take care of you."

"No," I interrupt. "Jackson's great. He's taken very good care of me. This is about Edward. He's having a really rough time."

"Edward? Did he go off the deep-end about your new job? I'm sure you remember that I predicted that. So I can't imagine how do you think I can help? Furthermore, I highly doubt he wants or needs _my_ help."

"Well, it's not just my leaving-there are other crazy complications now. With all due respect, I think you're wrong thinking Edward doesn't need your help. And it's not just that I'm in New York and too far away to take care of him, Mr. Masen. He may not know it, but I think you are just who he needs right now."

"Really? I like your moxie, Bella. I'll always bet on you. Besides you always know how to intrigue me…tell me more."

I take a deep breath and say a silent prayer that this whole idea doesn't backfire. Maybe there's been too much hand-holding and tip-toeing around our mess? We need a break…a tough angel, if you will, to stomp in and show us the way. And who's to say that an angel can't be a six-foot-two, fast-talking Hollywood producer hungering for a chance to finally be the father that his son has always needed?

My gut is twisted; something tells me that Edward and I are at a fork in the road and it is so dark and muddled that we can't read the signs. Which way do we turn for true love's way? One path is where we want to be, the other where I fear we are going. Hope is a flickering light.

Maybe Edward's dad is our angel. Every day unlikely prayers are answered. Maybe today's our day.

.

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**_What would you hope for Artward and his Bella?...I love hearing from you _**

Only two chapters to go, my friends. Thank you so much for staying with me through it all. I love you guys.

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See you next Saturday! xoxo


	59. Chapter 59  On My Way

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.

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**Work of Art / Chapter Fifty-Nine / On My Way**

_For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, "It might have been."__  
__- John Greenleaf Whittier_

_.  
_

I think this is the longest Edward Masen Sr. has been silent. If he hadn't grumbled and huffed a few times, I might have considered that he was no longer on the phone. I tell him the whole story, from the moment I gave Edward the news of my new job in New York, up to the discussion I just had with Ann.

"You're a good woman, Bella. I'm still not sure he deserves you," he says with a sentimental tone. I wonder if he's thinking about his lost love, Elizabeth, Edward's mom.

"He means everything to me, Mr. Masen. I never thought I would find my soul mate…but he's it. He really is."

"Well, that's good enough for me. Don't you worry, sweetheart, I'll get your man back on track. It's the least I can do. And would you please stop calling me Mr. Masen…hell, we're practically family. If you don't want to call me Edward, why don't you try Ed?"

"Thank you, Ed." I sigh. "I need to also let you know that we're supposed to leave for a romantic trip to Paris this Sunday. We planned this before Tanya showed up, and now I'm not sure it will happen."

"Sunday? Okay, then let's get right down to business. There's no time to waste. First, we need to get rid of the broad-she's a liability in more ways than one. I never liked her. I'm not surprised to hear she's gone psycho."

"You've met her?"

"Yeah, several times back when they were in school. They stayed with me once, and I took them out in N.Y. a few times. She had a hidden agenda-even back then, but Edward was clueless when it came to her."

The jealous beast roars inside of me, but I keep my mouth shut.

"What was her last name, Daniels or something like that?" he says, thinking out loud. Does anyone have her current contact information?"

"Well, she's called Edward a million times but from different numbers, and he deletes the calls. Our friend Rose may have it though."

"Okay, have this Rose call me, and I'll contact my lawyer. Then you call Ann and tell her I'm coming up. I'll get my girl to clear my schedule."

My confidence in my decision to call Edward's dad is growing by the minute. This is a man who knows how to get things done.

"Hey, aren't you doing a shoot today?" he asks.

"Yes, it's starting up again in about twenty minutes. We're on a break right now."

"Okay, but now I want you to listen to me. Be professional and take care of business. Don't let this mess get in the way of what you need to do for the shoot. Can you do that, sweetheart?"

"It's so hard to focus when I'm so worried about Edward."

"I know, but that's what you're going to have to do. There is production riding on it. I don't want you to worry-I'm going to get Edward straightened out."

"Are you sure you can accomplish all that before our flight on Sunday?"

"Yes, Ms. Bella. You just do your job and then look forward to Paris. Don't try to call us. I promise I will get his head on straight for the trip if you promise me to take care of business."

"I promise, sir."

"That's my girl. I'll call you before your flight home with an update."

"Thank you so much. I hope you know…"

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

.

It's hard to gauge Ann's reaction to the news that Edward Sr. is coming to Ojai.

"He's coming here? Well, this ought to be interesting."

"I know it's risky. It's either a brilliant idea or the worst one I've ever had."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed. You've helped them make a lot of progress with their relationship."

"Will you call and give me a warning if it's a disaster, Ann? Edward Sr. isn't calling me until this evening."

"Okay. Don't worry, Bella, everything will work out-I really think it will."

.

We shoot a several more set-ups before breaking for a late lunch. Soon after I get a text from Ann.

_They just left to head back to L.A.-Sr. is determined, Jr. is opening up a bit. I'm cautiously optimistic_

I text her back to thank her for the update. So far, so good-or at least as good as can be expected.

.

The last shot of the day is outside on the city street, but there is a permit issue and we are delayed. As the minutes pass I try not to panic. Rush hour is approaching and I very well might miss my flight. After an agonizing thirty minutes, Billy confirms my fears. We are going to run several hours over schedule.

"I just checked for you. The later flight is completely booked but you have a seat on the first flight in the morning. Sorry b-b. The hotel is holding a room for you."

"Shit!"

"Did you have plans?"

"Something like that," I grumble quietly.

.

At seven p.m. sharp, my phone rings. Thank God, it's Edward's dad. I'm about to have a fit worrying about what is going on back at home.

"Ha, the crazy bitch didn't know what hit her!" Ed laughs heartily.

"You mean you talked to Tanya?"

"No, not me…my lawyer did first, then Edward, and then the lawyer wrapped it up in a nice tidy package with a big fucking bow."

"And you think it worked…will she back off?"

"Hell yes, I'll frankly be surprised if she doesn't hightail it back to Alaska. I'll let Edward tell you what he said to her, but you would've been proud of him. He delivered it coolly and calmly, just like the lawyer told him to. I'll just tell you that she isn't your biggest fan now."

"Oh great," I moan.

"Don't worry. The restraining order is on its way to her as we speak. And it's delivered by an associate of mine who will also make things clear to her _off the record. _She won't bother either of you again."

"Thank God. Can I talk to Edward now?"

"Nope."

"No? Why not?"

"You asked for my help and we're doing this my way. I need him focused."

"Really? And he'll lose his focus if he talks to me?"

"Do you really need to ask me this?"

"Doesn't he want to talk to me?" I ask, trying to underplay my concern. "Is there something you aren't telling me?"

"Calm down, buttercup. You don't need to worry. Yes, he wants to talk to you, and he's pissed at me-if it makes you feel any better. But we still have some important work to do. I even took his phone away. As a matter of fact, I'm taking him on a brief trip, and he'll be meeting you in Paris. Your plane ticket, hotel instructions, Euros for the cab ride, and such will be delivered to you tomorrow."

"What? I don't want to fly to Paris without him." Good God-I've unleashed a monster. What have I done?

"Take it or leave it, baby."

"You drive a hard bargain, Ed. Why should I trust you?"

"I don't think you have any choice, my dear. I'll text you by noon tomorrow."

The dial tone rings in my ear long after I pull my phone away.

..~*~..

As it turns out, the shoot runs so late that I wouldn't have made the later flight either, even if they had a seat for me. Because of the permit delays the light was falling, and they had to set up additional lighting and on and on. It seems like it's just as easy for things to go wrong on a shoot as go right. So by the time I get back to the hotel and check in for a second time, I'm completely spent. After a shower and glass of wine I crash, my mind whirling with thoughts about Edward and all that I have to get done tomorrow after my flight before leaving for Paris.

But my sleep is not peaceful; it is haunted by a tall blonde with a halo of glowing hair who lingers on the edge of every scene in my dreams. In some settings I ignore her, others I try to dodge her, but she is always there watching me. In the final dream before I'm torn awake, I'm walking through the Country Mart in Malibu and see her perched on the edge of her café chair, laughing and holding the hand of her lunch date. When I take another step forward to see who she's with, it's Edward-only he's wearing designer sunglasses and a shirt covered in a tattoo style pattern that I don't recognize. I step closer and they both turn to look at me. She gives me a smug smile, but what finally devastates me is the complete disinterest in his expression before he turns back to her and smiles.

I force myself awake, sitting up with a start and tearing my sheets off, my chest heaving and my stomach rolling. Why in the fuck would I have a nightmare like this now, after things have finally been resolved with Tanya? I slowly sip the bottle of water on my nightstand and try to settle myself as my mind wanders.

And try as I might to rationalize my thoughts and calm my paranoia, the seed of doubt has been planted. Edward's dad forced everything about the Tanya meeting with even the lawyer coaching Edward with what to say. What if Edward has doubts or confusion? What if there is a part of him that still feels something for her, and he just has avoided her so he wouldn't have to face his feelings and upset me? A first love that powerful is with you your entire life.

What if his eventual acceptance of my move to New York is actually a sign of his pulling away from me? I am suspended in a foggy state between dream and wakefulness, and it clouds my mind, letting my imagination soar. Suddenly, all of his initial fears of us being separated have morphed into a monster furiously pacing back and forth in my hotel room while I sit trembling on the bed. My mind swirls as the creature takes shape to haunt me. Softly lit by the glow of city lights outside my window, the infidelity monster is hideous with its slimy skin, foaming mouth, and sharp teeth. It refuses to stop moving, restlessly pacing the room and growling, "It never would have lasted anyway."

I finally switch on the light, and the monster disappears as quickly as it came, but the impression and disturbing thoughts linger.

Turning to look at the glowing green numbers of the clock, I pull my fingers through my hair. "Four a.m.-yeah me!"

I'm talking to myself now, not a good sign. I turn on the TV and search for the most innocuous channel I can find. But everything annoys me, so in the final act of self-punishment-I settle on the Disney Channel. If I can survive _Hanna Montana, _I can survive anything.

..~*~..

When the plane lands at LAX I turn my phone back on and see that Rose has called. I call her back on the long walk to the baggage claim.

"Hey babe, I thought you were coming home last night?" Rose sounds confused.

"Me too. There were delays with the shoot, and I missed my flight. Good times, let me tell you. I'm at the airport right now; we just landed."

"So what's the deal with Edward? Ann said he left yesterday with his dad. What happened with Tanya? His dad didn't tell me what the plans were when I called with her contact information."

"According to him, she's been taken care of. Between Edward straightening her out, the lawyer straightening her out, and the restraining order served up by a threatening thug, she's probably quivering in a corner somewhere."

From the thunderous laugh I deduce that Rose finds this quite amusing, and it puts a smile on my face.

"So you like that, I take it?"

"Love it! What made you think to get Edward Sr. involved? I mean, pure genius girlfriend…that's really calling in the big guns."

"Maybe divine intervention. It just came to me and felt right, only now I'm not so sure. He's kidnapped Edward and won't let me talk to him."

"What the hell?" she snaps.

"Rose, do you know if he's a Scientologist or something?"

There is a loud guffaw. "Why would you ask that?'

"Well, if he's taken Edward somewhere, maybe they are doing one of those mind-cleanses or whatever the fuck they do in that _Celebrity Center_ in Hollywood. I mean look what happened to Tom Cruise? He says Edward is meeting me in Paris and not flying with me. There must be some strange reason for that."

"How weird…you are flying separately and he won't tell you why? And he won't let you talk to Edward? I don't like the sound of that, but he has no reason to mess you guys up-he thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread. He told me so on the phone today."

"Really?"

"Yes. Listen, you aren't staying at your apartment tonight-it's almost empty…come stay with us and I can take you to the airport tomorrow?"

"If you really don't mind, that would be so great, Rose. I'd been planning to stay at Edwards until all this happened."

"That's what I thought," she responds. I continue through the airport, finally reaching the baggage claim area just as the baggage carousel starts moving.

"The apartment is just depressing at this point," I tell her, watching with frustration when I see my bag hurdle out of the shoot and furiously tumble down towards the moving stainless conveyer belt.

"I know, baby. We will help you take your mind off things," she assures me.

"Oh, thanks so much, Rose. I'll tell you what, I have some errands and stuff to take care of, so why don't I call you in the afternoon and we can figure out timing?"

.

Twenty minutes later I get a text from Ed, aka _The Kidnapper_. The mystery man keeps it short and sweet.

_All going according to plan. _

Is he serious? That's all I get? But how mad can I be? After all, I brought this on myself.

I shove my phone back in my purse with a vengeance.

.

Luckily the rest of the day is a whirlwind of activities, which are gratefully distracting. Between picking up dry cleaning, my hair and nail appointments, and a trip to the drug store, I'm a very busy girl. I get a call from Ed's assistant who arranges to meet me at my apartment to make the special delivery of the documents for the Paris trip.

Of course, his assistant is adorable, albeit a bit frazzled, as she hands me a large Saks Fifth Avenue bag.

"What's this?" I ask as she hands it to me. "I was just expecting the tickets and hotel info."

"Oh no, that would be too expected. Mr. Masen likes to do everything in a big way."

I pull out the softest chocolate brown cashmere travel blanket and neck pillow. "Wow! He meant this for me?"

"His instructions were very clear. He had me waiting at Saks when they opened this morning to pick this up for you. He insisted on this color to match your eyes. Your ticket, Euros, and hotel confirmation are in that large envelope still in the bag. There is also a smaller envelope, which he insists you not open until you are with Edward in Paris. By the way, he upgraded your ticket from business to first class."

"Wow. He really knows how to spoil a girl." I can see where Edward learned his moves. "But you had to do all this for me on your day off? I feel guilty."

"Oh, please don't. Mr. Masen treats me really well and lets me have time off whenever I need to help my Mom, who has health issues. So I'm more than happy to do this for him."

"By the way, last time he contacted me he didn't mention where he and Edward were going. Do you happen to know?"

She smiles sweetly. "He told me that you would ask and made me promise not to tell you. Sorry, Miss Swan."

I roll my eyes. That man is way more James Bond than I would've ever given him credit for.

.

My apartment echoes as I walk through the empty living room, and I stop in my tracks letting memories wash over me: Alice and I gabbing endlessly on the couch curled up with our glasses of wine, our first fancy cocktail party where I kept burning the hors d'oeuvres, Edward showing up to take me bowling, Jasper putting up the new blinds in the kitchen backward and all the teasing we gave him for it.

For me, this apartment has represented the beginning of my better life, where I was finally able to get past the tragedies around my parents and create something good for myself. Through it all, Alice has been the sister I always wanted. Perhaps our personalities didn't mesh quite like Rose and mine, but we learned to love each other, and we always have each other's backs. She is already moved into Jasper's, and I get teary realizing how much I will miss the daily interaction with my Alice.

There are only a few things left in the apartment, which will probably end up being donated since neither Alice nor I have time to deal with trying to sell the stuff for next-to-nothing on Craig's List. One thing remaining is my bed, and I sit on the edge for a moment to try to calm my thoughts.

I am reminded of Edward Hopper's painting _Morning Sun_, where a woman sits on a bed in an otherwise empty room, the sun pouring in from a nearby window. It is classic Hopper in its starkness, light and shadow. But what is strongest about my memory of the painting is my curiosity-whether the woman is sad and lonely or feeling hopeful as she looks out the window to the world outside? Anyone watching me right now could probably ask the same question.

I finally stand up, lay my open suitcase across the bed, and unpack from New York before starting to pack for Paris. A week ago I had made a list of what I was going to take when our agenda seemed so clear. Now uncertainty floods through me. I won't need this cocktail dress and heels if Edward doesn't show up. Nor will I need this sexy short nightie and robe that I bought impulse shopping at Barneys when I was feeling excited about the trip. But I force myself to pack them anyway, figuring any positive affirmation is good at this point.

Passport, check. Electric converter plug, check. Paris guidebook, check. Travel partner and love of my life…God only knows.

..~*~..

Several hours and half of a bottle of Pinot Noir later, I find myself surfing a new wave of paranoia despite Rose and Lauren's best attempts to distract me. There have been no updates from _The Kidnapper,_ and I'm coming apart at the seams.

"I mean, where the hell are they? What could he possibly be doing with him? I've backed down from my promise and tried calling Edward's cell phone several times. I know Ed said he took his phone away, but I was hoping Edward somehow got it back. Evidentially not, since it goes directly to voicemail and then says the inbox is full."

"Bella, you need to let this go…you are going to be in Paris in Edward's embrace before you know it, and whatever agony you are in now will all have been worth it," Lauren insists.

It occurs to me that her Pollyanna tendencies suddenly annoy the fuck out of me.

"Really?" I reply sarcastically as I pull my phone out and start texting Ed.

_What's going on? Why haven't I gotten an update?_

To my surprise, this text he answers right away.

_Sorry my dear, we've been quite busy. Excellent progress._

_BTW-thank you for my beautiful gift _ I respond, trying to warm him up_._

_You're welcome-you deserve to travel in great style._

_Thank you…now can I talk to Edward?_

_No, are you ready for your trip?_

_Yes, why can't I talk to Edward?_

_I will text you tomorrow. Good night._

"Fuck!" I throw my phone down on the couch and it bounces off and skitters across the hardwood floor. Thankfully it doesn't break. _Stupid move, Bella. Break your phone now and you're screwed._

Rose shakes her head. "Come on, baby, I'm thinking tonight is a Napoleon night."

The corners of my mouth curl up just slightly. "Can we have nachos too?"

"Sure. You put in the DVD, and I'll turn on the broiler."

"Oh no….not _Napoleon Dynamite_ again, Rose! I can't take it!" Lauren moans.

"Sorry, darling. Sometimes Napoleon's dance scene for Pedro's campaign is the only thing that will cheer up my girl."

I nod my head solemnly.

Lauren gets up and heads to the bedroom. "I'll be in our room, watching a real movie."

"Hey!" I yell.

"Don't bother, baby," Rose assures me, grinning. "You either _get _Napoleon or you don't."

..~*~..

The next day I am teary as Rose pulls up to the international departure terminal at LAX.

"I just have a really bad feeling Rose. Something is going to go wrong-I just know it."

"You mean like the plane crashing?" she asks, trying to be helpful.

"No, I didn't mean that…but thanks so much for putting that idea in my head."

"Nothing is going to go wrong, Bella." She shakes her head vehemently.

"It's Edward. I just have a gut feeling that everything is different now. "

"Perhaps…but maybe in a good way."

The traffic cop starts giving us dirty looks, so we open our doors and move to get my luggage out of the car. Before I go inside I pull her into a big hug.

"I love you so much, Rose. Never forget that."

"I love you too, baby. Just promise me one thing, okay? Don't pull a Juliet and stick a virtual dagger in your gut or anything until you talk to Edward. I have a very strong feeling that this is just the beginning for you two, and I want to make sure you are ready to experience it."

"Okay, I promise."

"And you guys have fun. Go to the Picasso Museum and think of me. Sit in a café, drink wine, and debate existentialism. Damn, I wish I were going; Paris is one of the best cities in the whole world!"

We hug one more time, but then the traffic bitch blows her whistle so we separate. I smile and wave as she climbs back into her car.

.

It's a bit surreal dragging my luggage to check-in and going through security considering I did this just yesterday. Luckily I don't have to wait long until we board, and since I'm first class, I get on before the frenzied crowd.

I have settled into my seat and start to sip my complimentary champagne when they announce the reminder to turn off our cell phones and electronic devices. As I pull my cell phone out of my bag I see that I missed a text, and my heart skips when I notice it was from Edward. I quickly open it to read three simple words.

_Believe in me._

My tears come fast and furious as I take the screen and press it against me, right over where my heart beats only for him.

_Oh, Edward._ Does he sense my struggles? Does he understand all the insecurities that have plagued me since this drama began?

The flight attendant comes by and tips her head, wondering if I've turned the phone off, and I assure her that I am about to. But before I do, I quickly type in two words.

_I do._

And as I press s_end_, I know that part of my heart has gone with those two words, bouncing across satellites, shooting through the vast galaxy, until my man is holding them in his hands.

"Wait for me, Edward, "I whisper so quietly that no one but me can hear.

"I'm on my way."

.

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_**Oh, we are near the end, my friends…are you hopeful? ...I love hearing from you. And can we also take a moment to give Rose a round of applause...may we all be so lucky to have such a friend.**_

**Sorry I dropped the ball with review replies this week, I was putting 200% in the editing of the final chapter-which is a very long one. So set a bit of time aside next Saturday while we all meet in Paris.**

**If you would like to read future outtakes or a possible new story please remember to put me on author alert.**

**You guys are amazing…Thanks so much for reading Work of Art.**


	60. Chapter 60  Our Undeniable Destiny

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.

_**With this final chapter I want to give a special thanks to my team:**_

_**Betas and prereaders are the silent heroes of fanfic-quietly working to make stories better in every way. Twilightzoner has been with me from the beginning. And although I had originally hoped for a beta who held my hand and gave me hugs-she instead gave me tough love and by example taught me to be professional and non-compromising. I know my story is better for it. Thank you so much TZ.**_

_**CallsignC30 joined the team as a prereader at a point in the story when I craved a dialogue about content as perceived by a reader I really respected and her reviews had always been insightful and encouraging. She has been a dream, writing thoughtful comments, asking questions, and giving suggestions. She is one of the true gems of our fandom, generous, incredibly bright, passionate, and so kind. I just adore her. Thank you, my dear.**_

_**And as for my Azucena (aka Carmen) I wish you could all know my fanfic lover Azucena the way I do. Underneath her wanton exuberance lies a heart of gold, and tack sharp story sense. She has pushed me hard, taunting me to remove lemons and toughen up Edward. Our viewpoints are often opposed which makes her a wonderfully challenging prereader. But much more than that, she is a gift that came to me through Work of Art, and we have forged a deep, loving friendship I will always cherish.**_

_**Finally I'd like to thank brilliant designer Rose Arcadia for her awesome blinkie, review and retweets. She personifies the fun, sexy spirit of fanfic. Thank you to Story13, a lovely WoA reader from Paris who authenticated this chapter. To Readergood for my banner, and Squarepancake for my first blinkie. And a huge hug to Cullenboyz for her stunning WoA review that just went up http:/ tehlemonadestand (dot) blogspot (dot) com/ Please read it-it's fabulous and it made me cry.**_

So here we go my friends, the final chapter….

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**Work of Art / Chapter 60 / Our Undeniable Destiny**

_Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today. ~James Dean_

_._

I like first class. The flight attendant in the smart navy suit has brought the Godiva chocolate box by twice and didn't even raise an eyebrow when I took two pieces at once.

_Now this is living_, I think as I stretch my legs out straight in front of me. I have the cashmere throw wrapped around my legs and the headrest nestled against my neck. But what would make this perfect is if Edward were here next to me, our fingers laced together and his smoldering gaze meeting mine. That was how it was supposed to be until his ex knocked us off course, and I got his father, _the Kidnapper_, involved in a plan that could rival _The Bourne Identity_.

But I try to push all that aside and remember what's important in all this. So once again I pull out my phone, now on airplane mode, to reread Edward's message.

_Believe in me_

A flush of anticipation flows through me. If he only understood how much I do believe in him. Through all the drama over the new job and move, I learned that my new career won't mean as much to me if we can't still share the love that burns so brightly between us. Sighing deeply, I close my eyes and replay the memories we have shared. I remember early on when we were only friends and spent the afternoon in the gardens at the Huntington Library. It was such a lovely day, and on the drive back we fell asleep in each other's arms. From the very beginning we have been two distant magnets pulling together despite every obstacle that stepped in our way.

One of the most gratifying things to me is realizing how much effort Edward has made to pull himself together so our relationship would have a chance. The contrast between the arrogant, ass mouthing off at his art show in New York, to the gentle soul who took my hand at the cave dwelling in Bandalier, is remarkable. I will never forget him saying that he wanted to be the man that I deserved and that he would wait for me as long as it took for me to want him.

I know most women wouldn't want to put up with someone as challenging as Edward. I guess I just have the artist's gene imbedded in my DNA. I can't imagine a life without his passion and vision. I truly believe that when he feels something, he feels it deeper than most, and I love him fiercely for that. I would give up stability and a drama-less life without a second thought just to have him look at me and love me the way he does. I could have never imagined a life with passion could be so profound.

The flight attendant interrupts my daydreaming to take my dinner order. After the meal and a couple of glasses of wine, I turn on my iPod to my special Edward playlist and am lulled to sleep for most of the remainder of the flight.

It is mid-morning when the lights of the cabin come back on, and after breakfast we arrive in Paris. Feeling like a traveling pro, I charm the customs agent, retrieve my suitcase from baggage claim, and make my way to the taxi stand. Avoiding my inferior grasp on the French language, I hand the driver my hotel printout and, before you know it, I am headed into the city.

It's a sunny day, but there's a lovely breeze and big puffy clouds against the cerulean sky. As we get closer to our destination, I'm rewarded with the sights of Paris-the beautiful architecture and grand boulevards are stunning. The Seine River seems to cut right through the city as we cruise along its side.

When we pull up to the Hotel Plaza Athenee, I'm delighted. This is a grand hotel, in the elegant Parisian style. Before I'm even done paying the cab driver my suitcase is whisked inside. I approach the reception desk tentatively, and the desk manager smiles at me.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle. Welcome to the Plaza Athenee."

Do I have American tourist stamped across my forehead? Well, no matter; I'm just relieved he speaks English. He couldn't be more gracious, explaining that I am the first to check in and that our beautiful suite is ready. As he gives me my room key and waves over the valet, he also hands me an envelope with the hotel logo foil-stamped on the face in gold.

"I hope you enjoy your stay, Mademoiselle."

I smile warmly at him thinking, _I hope so._

The bellman pushes open the door to our suite and I blink in disbelief. I mean, I've now stayed in some fancy hotels, but this is old world elegance defined. The French provincial furniture is upholstered in the richest silks and velvets. Heavy drapes with swags and tassels frame the windows and French doors. Elaborate arrangements of fresh flowers are carefully placed at focal points in the room.

For a moment my heart aches, wishing Edward were here…despite the beauty, this room feels empty without him. I push back my fear that he won't show up and focus on the tasks at hand.

The bellman sets up my suitcase and glides through the suite explaining where everything is, finally opening the doors to the balcony and pointing out the view that includes the Eiffel Tower. I grin excitedly from ear to ear. As soon as I've tipped him and he departs, I rip open the envelope I was given at the front desk. I slowly lower myself onto the damask sofa in the sitting room to read it.

_Welcome to Paris, Bella,_

_I hope you find your suite to your liking. Plaza Athenee is my favorite place to stay in Paris._

_Several miles from your hotel you will find the Tuileries Gardens. On the west end is the museum, __l'Orangerie__ which displays Monet's Water Lilies and other great works. After viewing the paintings, go to the terrace and sit on the bench facing Auguste Rodin's famous bronze sculpture, Le Baiser._

_Edward will meet you there at 4 p.m., Paris time._

_My mission is complete-it's all up to you two now._

_Wishing you a magical time in the city of light and love._

_Ed _

_His mission is complete?_ Is this letter suddenly going to start smoking and dissolve with that iconic _Mission Impossible_ music-_duh, duh, duh, duh_-pounding in the background? I can't believe how crazy life has become. I've got to hand it to Ed-he's got my curiosity spiked. Between the build up and intrigue, I hardly know what to think. I look at my watch and realize what really matters is that in four hours and thirty-seven minutes I'll be with Edward. I take a deep breath and wonder how I'll ever wait that long.

I pace back and forth through the suite and then nervously unpack my bags. The huge tub in the bathroom beckons, so I fill it and slide in, anxious to wash away the travel grime. As I wiggle my toes and scoop the bubbles up in my hands, I imagine what it could be like if Edward were in here with me. There is nothing better than a wet, naked Edward to slide up against. I start squirming at the idea of it.

My heart swells, hoping desperately that all of the fantasies I have for this trip actually come true. Ed's letter says Edward's going to meet me, but what will his state of mind be? Has anything changed in his heart? I have to imagine we are okay, but there is always that nasty little voice in my head that makes me worry.

I finally rise out of my tub and wrap myself in a soft terry robe, opening the closet doors wide to select an outfit. The retro Audrey Hepburn sundress and little flat shoes I choose belie the seductive lingerie I plan to wear underneath. I dress slowly, hoping while I slip everything on that Edward will be the one to pull it off again. As I fasten my bracelet and watch on my wrists, I double-check the time to make sure my watch is accurate. Deciding to wear my hair loose and wavy around my shoulders, I add the finishing touch-dabs of my favorite perfume because it's his favorite too.

My attempt to eat lunch in the hotel's most casual café is futile, as I'm so nervous that I can only get down a few bites. By the time I speak to the concierge about the best way to get to _l'Orangerie_, my watch shows I have two hours and eleven minutes left in the Edward countdown. With my letter, Paris guidebook, and a light sweater in tow, I head off on my adventure.

Happily, the museum is a great place to burn a couple of hours and keep myself distracted. In their permanent collection I am absolutely enchanted with the Renoir painting of two young girls at a piano, and the Gauguin landscape. There is a particularly striking Picasso nude. But nothing can compare to the experience of _Les Nympheas,_ the exhibit housing Monet's series of water lily paintings.

When you enter this section of the museum you are in a round foyer, which leads you to the first oval shaped, pristine-white gallery. The paintings circle the room to create one connected image, and it is like a religious experience for me. At first I walk around several times to study each separate panel before finally sitting on the bench in the middle of the room to meditate on the experience as a whole. This is considered one of Monet's greatest masterpieces. The softness of the palette, the subtle movement of color and light, is exquisite. It's amazing to realize that he painted it at the end of his life while he was going blind.

I get emotional as I take it all in, realizing that in my wildest dreams I couldn't imagine standing in front of such an iconic collection of art in Paris. I am living my dreams.

I move to the second gallery, also laid out in the same format, and again spend time appreciating the genius that is Monet. I have already researched visiting Giverny, where Monet had his country home. I want to see the gardens and huge pond he designed there so that he would always have subject matter in close proximity to paint. I dearly hope that we can find the time to take a day trip out there.

By the time I'm finished with my museum visit, it's a quarter to four. It's difficult to part from the Monets, but I exit in an ethereal haze. I imagine tonight I will dream of floating in cobalt-blue ponds with lavender reflections, water lilies woven in my hair.

Moving out on the terrace, I look for the Rodin. When I find it I laugh out loud.

_Le Baiser__ translates to the kiss?_ I gaze at a bronze casting of Rodin's famous couple whose lips are about to meet. "Ed, you really know how to set up a scene," I say to myself. I look up at the bronze, where the young couple are wound together ready for a passionate embrace, and I smile.

_Of course this is where Edward and I will meet…it's absolutely perfect._

I settle down on the bench facing the work of art and study the bronze as I begin my wait. Each minute passing is a lifetime and reminds me of how long I waited for Edward and I to come together as lovers…all the insecurity and uncertainty we suffered through until our moment in Santa Fe when all of our heartfelt desire tumbled together in a victory disguised as a surrender.

Nothing with us has been easy. Instead it's been explosive, like fireworks and mayhem on a Tuesday night on the quietest street in a small town. Edward is my very own firecracker, and I'm ever electrified in his force field.

"Never a dull moment," my dad would have said. God, I wish he were with me now, to hold my hand and then pass it to Edward once he joined us.

The sun has fallen, lengthening the long shadows cast around me. But I bathe in a patch of sun, surrounded by warmth and golden light. My gaze falls past the Rodin and across the green sweep of the Tuileries. The gardens are formal yet have the worn elegance of a grand place that has been well loved. Generations of children have run through it, countless lovers have strolled arm in arm, and old people have rested on its benches. This park belongs to everyone who has left footprints in its fine gravel.

I tap my foot nervously…nine minutes to four. The minutes that pass are an eternity: planets could have collided, blacks holes could have formed and sucked us all inside. But instead the tiny hand inside my watch is a stubborn little bitch and taunts me about moving forward. Refusing to be patient, I look up again, searching as far and wide as my vision allows.

This time my tenacity is rewarded. In the farthest distance I see my future, and he's in a navy jacket walking my way. My heart flip flops. Is it him? It may not even be him. He's so far away that it is more like a mirage, shimmering under my watchful gaze. I blink several times, still holding my guidebook open so that I can pretend I've been reading and not about to pass out from nerves.

Navy jacket is moving with purpose while being blanketed with shadows from a row of trees. I don't recognize the clothes…white button-down shirt, loafers, pressed jeans, very French-but when he is finally closer and the sun falls over him again, I gasp. It's Edward all right, and he's even more beautiful than I remember. Our eyes haven't met yet as he appears to be looking down, deep in thought.

Even though I want to run to meet him, I can tell he needs these last few moments. So instead I remain still and watch as each step brings him closer, his jacket falling open from his long strides and floating behind him like a modern day cape. When he's about fifty feet away he finally looks up and our eyes meet. There is a spark in his expression, and the corners of his mouth turn up. I slowly stand and wait, wondering. Will he scoop me up in his arms? Will we reenact _The Kiss_?

I coach myself to keep breathing. Finally he's before me, and it's quiet and gentle, not at all what I expected or imagined.

"Hi," he says softly, reaching forward and taking my hands in his.

I tip my head sideways and look at him intently. His tentative expression is hard to understand, yet I'm fairly certain I see love reflected in his brilliant green eyes.

"You found me." I smile.

"Well, I'd been searching for you my whole life, so once I found you, you can bet I wasn't going to lose you in Paris."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it." I squeeze his hands. He looks down, and then lifts up my right hand.

"You're wearing the charm bracelet I gave you for your birthday."

"Of course-look, here's where I put the Eiffel tower." I let go of his hand and lift the tiny silver charm. I look up and grin. "Can you believe we're here, Edward? We're really here!"

And something about the bracelet and my excitement is the sign or affirmation that he needs. He pulls me into his arms and hugs me tightly.

"Oh baby, I've missed you so much. What a journey this has been."

"Are you okay?" I ask, worried as we pull apart.

"Yeah." He looks at me cautiously. "I guess I'm just nervous."

"Nervous…why?"

"Some of the stuff I want to talk to you about."

My heart falls. "Is this about Tanya?"

"Tanya, yes, it's about her-but not just that-it's about everything: Tanya, James, your moving, my Dad, my past, our future…everything." He pulls his fingers through his hair then points to the bench. "Here, let's sit down."

I lower myself to the bench and grip my book tightly to still my trembling hands. I follow his eyes as they look from the top of my head down to my shoes.

"I have to say, you look especially beautiful today-you look very French."

"Thanks," I say softly.

We get quiet, and I wait for him to start the real conversation.

He clears his throat and looks off into the distance. "Well, to start, I can't begin to tell you how mad I was at you when you sent Dad to come straighten me out while I was in Ojai."

"Yeah, I was worried you'd feel that way."

"But you did it anyway." He laughs. "That's my girl. But once again you proved that you always know exactly what I need."

My eyebrows shoot up, surprised. "Really? I'm so relieved. Did he help you?"

"I think the last few days we spent together changed my life and our relationship permanently. I'll just say that we came to an understanding about our past, and made a new start for the future."

"Oh, that's so wonderful, Edward."

"We fought, we yelled, and finally talked for hours, and eventually realized that we're both crazy, but the crazy manifests itself in different ways. Yet then in some aspects we're so much alike."

"I've always thought so," I admit.

"So we healed a lot of old wounds while he was trying to get me to deal with my current problems."

My curiosity can't wait another moment. I finally ask what has been plaguing me for the last three days. "When Ed and I talked he told me that you talked to Tanya. What was that like?"

He digs his heel into the gravel. "Well, you know I had no interest or intention of talking to her. But Dad finally convinced me that if I truly felt that way, the best thing I could do is tell her that directly. He felt that my silence became an enticing challenge to her-she would only get more outrageous with her antics in an attempt to get me to react. So we figured out a plan, since we all agreed that we needed to get a restraining order against her. I can't tell you how creepy that was finding her in my hot tub, and if we didn't do something, who knows what she would do next."

I nod. "I bet she was surprised when you called."

"She was thrilled until the lawyer got on the phone and told her the call was being recorded. As much as I wanted to rail on her, they had coached me to remain strong and detached-so I was. I told her that I was madly in love with my girlfriend, who I intended to marry, and that I had absolutely no interest in pursuing even a friendship with her. After years of no contact, it was made clear that it was irritating to even hear from her, so she must not contact me again."

"Well, that's pretty damn clear," I smile, relief surging through me.

"You bet. She babbled, something about me not knowing what I was missing. I assured her that no one had ever even gotten close to making me happy like you have, Bella-incredibly happy in every way."

He smiles at me, and my heart flutters.

"Well, that shut her up. So the lawyer then got on the phone and explained the restraining order and that we had the resources to make sure she didn't get near us again. And then dad sent some scary thug-looking guy to serve the restraining order-just as a scare tactic, of course. But I guess he gave her a quite different, more vivid kind of warning, along with a non-refundable one-way ticket back to Alaska."

"Yes, Ed said that we won't be hearing from her again."

"I'm sure we won't."

My head falls forward with relief. When I finally tip my chin back up, he watches me carefully.

"You weren't seriously nervous about Tanya, were you?"

"Of course I was. If you were me, wouldn't you be?"

"Well, yes, but I'm nuts and you're so sane." He leans forward on the bench and chews his nail. "While we're on the subject of ex's, I have to bring up something."

"Okay."

"The afternoon just before I came home to Tanya in my hot tub, I found out that you had run into James and talked to him. What the hell, Bella? Can you imagine how that made me feel, to hear that from someone else? It was a total mind fuck that you hadn't even told me…I kept thinking that it must have meant something more to you, or that you were hiding something, otherwise you would have."

I look at him shocked. In the whirlwind of the last few weeks, the elevator incident was just a tiny blip on my radar. But obviously, I need to see it from Edward's point of view.

"Oh man, I forgot to tell you, didn't I? Damn it all. Honestly, that happened at the worst point of our fight, and frankly. it was so unimportant to me that it didn't come to mind."

"Well, it really messed with my mind."

"I'm sorry, Edward. But like Tanya, let me assure you James is the last person I wanted to see."

"You weren't attracted to him when you saw him again?"

"Not in the slightest. You have ruined me in that regard. How could I possibly be attracted to anyone else?"

"Point made." He smiles and closes his eyes, turning his face to the sun. _What a face, _I think as I watch him: his chiseled cheekbones and jaw line, the electricity in those emerald eyes.

"Can I ask you something, Edward? Why wouldn't your dad let me talk to you the last few days? It made me crazy."

He laughs quietly. "Yeah, we had a number of fights over that. I mean he fucking took my phone away. I got desperate on Sunday and found where he had hidden it while he was in the shower. I knew you were asleep and wouldn't respond right away, but at least I got a message to you."

"That message meant a lot. I got it right before my plane took off."

He squeezes my hand and presses it gently to his lips.

"Anyway, Dad kept saying that he wanted my undivided attention while he was trying to help me. But I have another theory."

"You do…what is it?"

"The man's a Hollywood producer, Bella. Drama is in his blood. He wanted this to play out like a classic movie screenplay, and he's master of setting the stage for a gripping drama. He used to always say, you've got to make all the elements work together like a finely tuned orchestra before you can get to your perfect ending."

"And we are the stars of his production?" I laugh and shake my head, but I know Edward is right.

"Precisely. Dad even wanted us to have our big reunion in our hotel room. He told me to have the hotel concierge arrange for someone to trail rose petals through the room, and for me to be waiting for you out on the balcony with a bottle of champagne." He crinkles his nose. "He's such a cornball. So I put my foot down. I knew I had to pick my battles with him, but this was one worth fighting. I wanted to meet you outside, under the sky, in some place beautiful like a park where we could talk. Then I remembered this place, surrounded by art and beauty."

"It was the perfect choice," I reply smiling.

"Yeah, eventually he realized I was right…feisty old guy."

"Well Edward, you've got to love the man. He really threw himself into the situation without a moment's hesitation. The idea that he could help you-that you may actually need him-meant the world to him."

"You know what, after all we went through, I think I do love him. I really felt through all of this like he would do anything to help me, and help us, and in the past I never would have believed that could happen." He curls forward. "And that leads to the next part…what I'm nervous about."

"I'm listening." I rest my hand on his thigh reassuringly.

"Maybe it'd be best if I showed you." He pulls out his phone and slides his fingers over the face until a photo fills the screen. He hands it to me."

I study the image, which appears to be the expansive living area of a hip modern apartment. There are huge floor to ceiling windows, and through the brightness beyond I make out a city landscape. "Is this in New York?" My mind is spinning with the possibilities.

"Yes, it's New York…actually my dad's apartment in New York. We arrived there early Saturday, and I flew here from JFK late last night."

"You were in New York?" I look over at him, my eyes wide with disbelief.

"Here let me show you more." He flips through the images; there is a beautiful bedroom that also has a view, a full relatively spacious kitchen and there's a shot of a wide balcony with an outside living area. "What do you think?"

"It's gorgeous-a showplace. Did you even know he had it?"

"No. Evidentially he bought it as an investment when the market fell. He did live there at the time because he had a series in the city and needed a place to stay for an extended period, and he ended up liking it so much he kept it. But he bought it when we weren't talking, so I didn't know about it."

"Wow. It must have been nice to stay there."

"Yeah, there's a beautiful guest room and the bathrooms are state of the art. Even though it is in the middle of this city, because it's up so high and it's so spacious, there's such a calm feeling there. I think you'd really like it." I notice there is a hopeful tone to his voice, and my heart starts pounding.

"I bet I would," I reply quietly.

"So after our flight, Dad and I settled in and had only been there a few hours when he decided to spell everything out to me. He told me it was time for _the_ talk. At this point we had fought, agonized, and reminisced, so what was one more heavy conversation? I mean the man is tenacious-he wore me down.

"So he takes me to the balcony and points down to the busy streets far below. This is what he said:

_I want you to imagine that Bella is down there somewhere doing something._

"So figuring I would play along with this game, I did-even though I didn't like how it started. Anyway, after I imagined you getting into a cab, then he told me to close my eyes. He then said,

_Now I want you to picture yourself in Malibu alone, with Bella here in New York getting into that cab without you._"

I look up at Edward, and his face is twisted as if he's in pain. I would think he was angry if I didn't know better.

"It hit me so hard, Bella. It all became so real in that moment." His voice gets low and quiet as I rub my hand over his back. He opens his eyes and stills himself, getting a grip before continuing.

"So he pulls me inside to the right side of the living area."

"_Okay, Edward_, he says, _now imagine your easel, your studio set up right here, and you're painting. And Bella is still in the cab, but in a minute she will get out, enter the building, and step into the elevator, heading up…_"

He clears his throat nervously, and I squeeze his hand.

"Yes, and why did he say I was heading up the elevator, love?"

"Because you were coming home to me, like you would every night."

"Yes, every night." I sigh, fighting back tears. His energy is surging through me as he continues.

"This was his brilliance, Bella. He knew I just needed to see it, feel it, understand how it could be." We instinctively lean further into each other.

"Oh, Edward."

"I know, baby." He wraps my hands in both of his.

"So what happened next?"

"Dad just had to look in my eyes to know that I understood his faith in me-that I could handle this big move to be with you. And with his help it was going to be better than okay-it was going to be great."

I gasp and look at him, almost not wanting to believe it, in case I had misunderstood. "What about being too anxious to live there?"

"Well, as my dad put it, none too gently, _Buck the hell up, son, that's what extra medication is for. Besides, do you really think your anxiety will be that much better in Malibu once she's gone?_ "

"He's a fucking genius, I tell you. Because he's right...my home in Malibu would never be the same without you close by."

I hold onto his arm and blink back more tears.

"He was so certain that there was no reason I couldn't handle this change. And you know what he did then, love? He handed me two keys, one for you and one for me."

"Two keys?" I'm so shocked that I'm having trouble comprehending everything.

He laughs loudly. "Yeah, he said the place was ours for the year, but then he's taking it back and throwing us out."

"So…" I mumble excitedly.

He turns towards me, still holding my hands tightly. "Can I come with you, baby? Can we live together in New York?"

"You're going to come?"

"I don't want to live without you, Bella. It's time to take control of my life and not let the woman of my dreams leave and slowly drift away."

It finally fully hits me, and I let out a little shriek. "You're going to come!" I throw my arms around him and tackle hug him. "I can't believe it! My dream's coming true!"

He throws back his head and laughs, and I can feel the tension fall off of him like the paper from a wrapped gift suddenly being pulled away.

"So this is good news?" he asks grinning.

"The best news ever," I exclaim as he pulls me closer. We wind together, a tangle of limbs until we are pressed tightly together. "Thank you, Edward, for supporting my career and choosing to come with me. I'll love you forever for that."

"Good, cause I'm planning to love _you_ forever, Bella."

He kisses me softly at first. But then his passion leads to the big kiss, where my toes curl and I get dizzy before I realize I've stopped breathing. I know people are strolling past and there must be some type of park etiquette, but I really don't care. Because right now the most beautiful man has handed me his heart, trusting that we will walk hand in hand through whatever fire the year ahead holds.

He loves me in a big, fierce, all-consuming way, and I feel it with each kiss. My eyes are closed as all of the sensations come alive: the sweet taste of his lips, the sounds of the park surrounding us, his scent-a mix of cologne and clean skin, and the warmth of the sun painting us in hues of gold.

Suddenly a picture comes in my head, and I break our kiss, giggling.

"What's so funny, girlfriend?"

"I just realized that we are positioned just like the Rodin."

"Only better because we are actually kissing."

"Only not better because we have clothes on."

"Well, I'll tell you what. When we get back to the hotel we can re-enact_Le Baiser _in the nude."

"You're smooth."

"Yeah, and you love it." He grins.

"Yes, I do."

.

I'm giddy; throw-your-arms-in-the-air-and-twirl happy. And Edward's so happy that I hold onto him, because it seems that if I don't he could just float away. We begin strolling arm and arm through paths of the Tuileries without any agenda, just enjoying the feeling of being in love in Paris. When we pass one of the outdoor cafes in the middle of the park, we stop for some wine, bread, and cheese, and they sit us at a little table under a tree. Dappled light falls over us, rendering the scene like a Seurat pointillist painting: _Monday Afternoon at the Tuileries_. We hold hands and lean into each other as the world moves around us. I can't wipe this ridiculous euphoric grin off my face, so I don't even try. Edward laughs and scoots his chair around the table until we are side-by-side. We lift our glasses and toast our future because it sure looks bright.

An hour later, a million excited plans discussed, our wine bottle is empty, and our check is paid.

"Shall we head back to our room?" he whispers in my ear.

"I thought you'd never ask."

As we float into the lobby, the manager at the front desk smiles broadly at us.

_"Très bon__. _You found her, sir," he acknowledges happily.

"Yes, thank you. Isn't life grand!" Edward exclaims as he slides his arm around my waist and pulls me closer.

"Oui, quand on est amoureux, le monde semble parfait," he responds smiling.

"What did he just say?" I whisper to Edward as we approach the elevators.

"When you're in love, the world seems perfect."

"So true!" I agree.

..~*~..

"No, no, you've lost your mind!" I laugh.

"Be quiet, woman, I'm carrying you over the threshold."

Wine, combined with jet lag and the romance of Paris, have reduced us to silliness.

"This isn't our honeymoon, cowboy."

"It might as well be," he growls.

He sweeps me up in his arms and carries me gallantly inside, kicking the door shut behind him. My shoes fall, and I drop my purse and guidebook on the way to the bedroom.

"I'm going to make sweet love to you, baby. And when I'm done, I'm going to do it again." He playfully half tosses me on the bed.

"Oh, my. Were you imagining what you wanted to do to me on your flight over?"

"Hell, yes. Are you kidding? I couldn't stop thinking about it for most of the flight. I had to take a very long shower as soon as I checked in to the hotel."

I look down at him. "A lot of good that did. Houston, it looks like we have another situation." I reach over and run my fingers along his hard length as it presses tightly against the confines of his jeans.

"Bella," he moans as he slowly pushes up the skirt of my sundress to stroke my thighs. "Oh baby, look what you are wearing." He takes in the garter, silk stockings and tiny lace panties.

"Wait until you see the rest," I assure him.

"Did you wear that for me?" he asks, a boyish charm in his twinkling eyes.

"Just for you, handsome."

I glance up briefly, just as the remains of the daylight spread across our bed. From this angle, the optimal view of Paris is just outside our window.

"Look, Edward. The sun is setting over the Eiffel Tower. Isn't it spectacular?"

The structure itself actually looks like an overgrown kid's erector-set project, but with the setting sun falling over it and the way it is rising out of the gorgeous Paris cityscape, it truly is breathtaking.

He follows my gaze and looks back at me, his eyes full of fire. "I have the best view of Paris right here in my arms."

As he turns and kisses my neck, I regain my focus too. Sitting up, I quickly unzip my dress, and he helps me pull it over my head. All that's left is _moi _in my extremely sexy lingerie.

"You like?" I run my hands over my hips, then down my thighs. His eyes roam over me, lingering on the tiny sheer push-up bra that's barely containing me. It's a miraculous meeting of fashion and engineering. My breasts have taken on a life of their own, and they are holding him captive.

"I love," he growls as he undoes his pants and sets himself free.

"Could you come over here and show me how much you love it?"

He steps closer and cups my breasts in his hands and kisses me just above the spot where they meet, before biting my nipples through the sheer fabric.

"Oh, Edward," I moan as I fist his hair and pull gently.

I'm feeling wantonly playful as I watch him quickly pull off his shirt. It could be the wine, or that hot accent that everyone we encounter has. But more than likely it is the fact that my man is following me, to be by my side in New York, and I would do anything to show him how happy that makes me. His decision has set my heart free.

I slide off my panties but the bra and garter remain, my legs luminescent from the sheer silk stockings. "I'm going to make you so glad you're coming to New York with me." I moan as I fall back on the bed and pose like Brigitte Bardot did for Roger Vadim. My hair fans across the silk pillows. I watch his chest heave as he observes me.

"How many days has it been, handsome?"

"Since I had you in my bed? He sighs as his mind calculates. Five days and ten or so hours….an eternity."

"Have you missed me?"

"In every way. So now that we are here together, in this luxurious suite, there will be some making up for lost time."

"Is that so?" As he removes the last of his clothing, my impatient hands run between my thighs and over my breasts. He intently watches every move I make.

"What are you thinking about as you do that?"

"You, always you."

"Oh, baby," he says in a low, thick voice. "I need you…I need to be inside of you."

As I reach out for him, he settles over me and pulls me into his arms.

I realize how different everything is now that our future is certain. This is new, a beginning where once I feared there could be an end.

"I need you too," I whisper as I wrap my legs around him. We start slow, whispers and lingering kisses, skin to skin, heart to heart, as he strokes in and out of me. But like everything between us, the intensity builds and builds until it can't be contained.

The resulting passion is poetry, a cadence full of raw emotion as we tumble and shimmer over the sheets.

I kiss him with my whole heart as my approaching climax begins to take control. Words and sensations of every shape and color flutter around me.

He is making love to me with everything he has.

"Yes… yes…" I chant.

"We are so close," he whispers.

"Oh God, please," I moan, as he pushes deeper, intently watching me-fire around his edges.

"Bella?" he gasps.

"Always love me like this."

He smiles pulling me closer. "Always" he says confidently, his happy eyes green, so green.

I breathe him in. "I love you." I'm flying so high now, "….don't let me go."

"I won't-not ever."

"Promise?" My fingers press into his shoulders.

He looks fierce. "You are mine…I'm going to take care of you."

"Yes," I chant.

I am unfolding; the most intricate origami coming undone. "Love me, Edward."

"Always." His hands—full of truth, pass along my neck, cupping my breasts, his thumbs across my nipples.

In my bliss I am aware of soft lips, flashes of light, his heart beating furiously just for me.

"My love, my love…" the last breath, my smallest whisper…"my love."

I moan, my head falling back as I feel myself soaring over the edge. His thrusts get harder as I cry out for him. Just before my eyes close with pleasure, I see in his expression a man passionately in love. He finishes with a protective fierceness, holding onto me tightly, assuring me he'll never let me go.

.

In the soft light, we slowly uncurl in white sheets brushed with the sweet scent of devoted love. My mind has never been clearer as we calm our breaths and thundering hearts…I know it's me and my Edward…forever.

..~*~..

Later in bed, he kisses me. "You're all melty, like butter," he teases as he pulls me into his arms. I've abandoned my lingerie, and we are naked under the cool sheets.

"I _am_ melty. I don't know when I've ever been so happy and content."

"Me too, baby, me too."

I circle my fingers across his chest. " You know, handsome, all of this is spectacular. I'm so grateful to be here with you in this fancy hotel in Paris. But I'd be happy with you anywhere."

He grins. "Anywhere? Even in a trailer in Bakersfield?"

I laugh. "Yes, as long as the bed could hold two and there was a place to cook our Pop tarts and Hot Pockets."

"Okay." He grins. "How about camping in the woods?"

"Oh, you and your plethora of romantic travel destinations! Sure, I'd go camping, as long as we can snuggle in your sleeping bag and you keep the bears away."

I kiss his neck and nibble his earlobe before winding my leg over him. He takes a deep breath.

"Why do I find that arousing?" he moans. I can't tell if he's talking to me or himself. I notice he is swelling and hardening under my thigh that's draped over him. "Damn, what you do to me, woman."

"Was it the idea of saving me from the bears? 'Cause I think that's really hot too."

"No…it's all this love and devotion you're showing me."

"I warned you what would happen if you came with me to New York," I tease. "I hope you don't get tired of being worshipped."

"I highly doubt that, especially if it involves you naked in bed with me. Maybe you could show me what you have in mind…worship-wise."

"Okay, lover, I'll show you," I say playfully. "Here, roll over onto your stomach." I pull the linens off him completely.

He raises his eyebrows, but follows my instructions, lifting his hips slightly to accommodate his erection.

"Close your eyes," I whisper. "This _is _my special show and tell...just for you."

He sighs, smiling.

He lies still as I run my fingertips up the back of his legs, circling over his ass and then heading up towards his shoulders. "My favorite mornings are the ones where you've kicked the sheets off and I wake up to this view. Just looking at your amazing body does things to me, Edward…wicked, wonderful things."

"Yeah, wicked," he moans, as my hands move over him.

Rising up, I stretch one leg over him until I'm straddling his delectable naked body. I lean back onto his thighs and squeeze his ass. "I don't mean to objectify you but this is perfection." I lean over and bite one of the cheeks. "It's one of my favorite parts of you. I want to grab at it all the time."

He keeps his eyes closed and laughs. "Well, not objectifying either…I feel the same about your ass, baby."

I lean down and nibble across his shoulder and up his neck, my breasts skimming along his back. I can feel the heat rising off his skin as he becomes more aroused. I run my hand over his bicep. "Look at these sexy shoulders, and such strong manly arms."

"Well, all the better to hold you with," he teases, grinning.

Leaning forward again, I run my hands through his hair and massage his scalp. He moans softly. "And of course, the hair. Like all of this perfection wasn't enough, it had to be topped off with the most amazing head of hair."

"Well, feel free to run your fingers through it anytime. And when you pull it, just so, …it does naughty things to me," he says with hunger in his voice.

I fist a handful of hair and tug while pressing my lips to the back of his neck.

"I like naughty…a lot." I sigh.

I have an overwhelming urge to feel every part of him, skin to skin, so I stretch out and settle over him slowly, sliding my legs up so they're on top of his. I slide my arms along his, so that I mirror every part of him. If there were icing between us, we'd be a sandwich cookie. I reach for his hands and wind our fingers together as I settle my head down until we are cheek to cheek. We just lay there quietly for a moment, our breathing and heartbeats in sync, before I loosen my limbs and straddle him again.

I lean down, my lips just above his ear and whisper.

"The moment I met you Edward, I knew you were my idea of physical perfection in a man. Did you know how much I wanted you?"

"No, but I knew how much I wanted you."

"And it's still just as intense for me, damn it. Sometimes I only have to look at you to become instantly aroused."

"Bella," he moans. He suddenly rolls over and pins me under him. "If you're going to keep talking like that, I insist on making love to you at the same time. A man can only take so much, you know?"

As he slides against me, I open my legs further, anxious to feel him inside again. Right before he pushes forth he looks up at me and freezes. "Baby, what's wrong? Why the tears?"

"These are happy tears." I smile reassuringly. "Because I can't believe how happy I am." I gently hold his face in my hands. "What I was about to tell you a moment ago was that I'm so lucky because I've had the chance to learn that your heart and soul are even more beautiful than your outside perfection."

"Really?" he asks, sincerity in his voice. I get the idea that he hasn't gotten this type of compliment often in his life.

"Yes, Edward. And now you're everything to me." My voice cracks with the final words, and I feel a tear spill down my cheek.

He tenderly kisses my tear away whispering words of love and adoration. When I rock against him, he finally pushes inside of me-every thrust, kiss, and touch sublime.

We make love slowly, a mix of tears and smiles, giggles and lusty moans, finally floating away on our cloud of flawed perfection. Beautiful.

.

I have to try hard to wake up. This is undoubtedly the most heavenly bed I've ever slept in. The room is dark except for one desk light that shines on Edward. I watch him as I slowly wake, smiling inwardly when I realize that he's sketching. His eyes move over me, and when he sees I'm awake he grins.

"Hey, love."

"Hi, handsome. How long have I slept?"

"A few hours. I only dozed off for a bit. I'm so amped about everything. Besides, my muse inspired me so I've been sketching."

"I'm your muse?" My heart warms to realize he's creating art again.

"Yes, you have been since I met you."

I lift my head off the pillow. "Can I see?"

He turns the pad towards me, and I see a loose figural drawing of me on my side accented by washes of bright colors.

"These are studies for my new series. I'm calling it _Bella Around the World_, or at least that will be my private working title."

"So you're going to share my body with the world?" I tease.

"I don't think so, baby. No, the imagery won't be so literal, but more abstract. I want to evoke how I felt with you in each place: New York, Malibu, Santa Fe, Barcelona…"

"Paris," I chime in. "I really like it. So we will have to travel some other places to inspire you. You know, to keep the series going."

"How does Italy sound? Maybe Venice at Christmas, Tuscany, then Rome for New Year's?"

"Really?"

He scratches his chin, thinking.

"Or maybe a fancy-pants trailer in Bakersfield?"

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. "Mmmmm. That sounds grand…so inspiring! We could wire a wreath to the front bumper and get Christmas-themed Pop tarts."

He grins playfully and then glances at an addition to our room that I'm only just noticing.

"Are you hungry?" He points to a small rolling table overflowing with food. "I ordered a bunch of stuff off the room service menu."

I look more carefully at the spread. "Are those berries?" I ask lazily.

"Yeah, but don't move-I want to finish this pose…here, I'll get them for you." He brings the bowl and places it nearby on the bed, picking out a strawberry and offering it to me. I wrap my lips around his fingers and smile.

.

A few studies later, Edward finally sets his sketch book down and goes in to take a quick shower. I consider joining him, but first I'm inspired to take in the view again. I slip on my silk robe and step out onto our balcony. As I gaze over the nightfall cityscape, I realize that I could stand here looking for hours and never get bored.

A few minutes later Edward joins me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. He presses his lips against my hair and sighs.

"Happy?"

"Completely."

We look out over the view, sparkling with promise. It hits me that there is so much I want to see and do during our short week here. "Hey, I'm going to jump in the shower, and then can we take a walk?"

"Sure," he says happily. "It's only ten p.m." But then his expression falls. "Oh shit," Edward curses. "I forgot that I promised to text Dad and let him know how things worked out."

"Do it now, handsome…better late than never."

"I know how I'll get him worked up…I'll keep it short and sweet." He opens his phone and types a few words, showing me the screen before sending it.

_She said yes._

I laugh. "That's to the point, all right. Do you really think that will satisfy him? I highly doubt it."

"You're right." He erases the screen. "But there is no way I could possibly explain in a text how I'm feeling right now. Any _we couldn't be happier_ or _we are so much in love, _yada yada, doesn't begin to do this justice."

"I know-why don't you do it in his language, film speak. Tell him the production was flawless, and we have a hit."

"Hey! You're right." He looks at his watch. "He'll probably be in meetings, but he'll get it eventually."

We sit down on the nearby loveseat to type the message. I curl up next to him as we throw ideas back and forth before coming up with the final phrasing.

_Hi Dad, here are the production notes. We know it's going to be a hit._

_FINAL CLIMATIC SCENE –a big yes for New York, and all the days that follow it_

_FADE TO BLACK-as we stand in the moonlight on our Parisian balcony_

_MUSICAL SCORE-Edith Piaf, La Vie en Rose_

_THE END-only this isn't the end…it's our beginning._

_CREDITS ROLL-thank you Dad for all you did. We love you._

After he's typed the last words, he takes my finger and lowers it on the screen so that we both hit _send_ together. Then he pulls me onto his lap, holding me tight as we sit quietly for a moment gazing out over the view.

"That reminds me," I say turning back towards Edward. "There was a sealed envelope that came with my flight and hotel information. His assistant instructed me to open it with you."

Edward rolls his eyes. "That man must not have slept at all during the drama. What could it possibly be?"

I jump up and retrieve it from my bag before settling back onto his lap. "Here, you open it."

Edward's long fingers pull the flap open and he unfolds the parchment paper and starts reading.

_Hello my favorite couple,_

_By the time you open this you will be reunited and happily planning your future in New York and beyond. Yes, I'm that confident and the two of you should be as well. By now, I sure as hell hope you've figured out that you are meant to be together…always._

_So to celebrate, I've arranged for a special dinner Thursday night at Le Jules Vernes restaurant in the Eiffel Tower at 7 p.m. __Alain Ducasse is the chef, and you will have a meal you will never forget. Ask for Frédéric Rouen, the manager and he will make sure you are taken care of._

_When you get back, I expect to be taken out for lunch before you move._

_Have fun, lots and lots of fun._

_Love, _

_The Future Grandpa_

_._

Edward shakes his head laughing. "Crazy old man!"

I lean back and nuzzle his neck as Edward sets the letter aside. "Yeah, but look how much your dad believes in us." I smile, looking in the distance to see the landmark still glittering against the night sky. "And wow…dinner in the Eiffel Tower. This experience is becoming more storybook by the hour."

He laughs and kisses the top of my head as he pulls me closer. "I know, my girl loves a good romance with a happy ending, and I'm going to work really hard to give you that. I'll be a good partner and try really hard not to be such a handful. Cara already agreed to phone sessions so we can continue our progress."

"I'm glad. That's going to be important with all of the changes. But know also that I'm not going to let this job overwhelm me to the point that I'm not paying attention to your needs too, Edward."

He runs his fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp as he thinks.

"Thanks, baby. I just know you're going to be really busy shooting, and you'll want my support. So I'm going to pamper you after your long days and try to be what you need…your romantic hero, if you will."

"Thank you," I whisper as I kiss him on the cheek.

"I must say though, Ms. Classic Literature, I know you love the romantic heroes, but lets face it, they all had some issues. I'm not actually that bad in comparison."

"Really?" I laugh.

"Yeah…for example, Romeo was fickle. I mean wasn't he wildly in love with that hussy, Rosaline, right before he met Juliet? Then that Darcy every woman swoons over was an insufferable snob. Heathcliff was far nuttier than me. That crazy ass makes me look laid back. And Mr. Rochester? Come on! By the time he and Jane get it on, he's blind, maimed and an old dude…what the hell? In the romantic heroes contest I think I'd win hands down."

"Yeah, especially since you're alive."

"See? Another reason, as if I needed one." He laughs. "That reminds me. Wait a minute, baby."

He steps inside the room and I can hear him unzipping a bag. When he comes back out he is holding a velvet pouch.

"What's that?" I ask, a tremor of excitement starting to swirl through me.

"Remember that conversation we had the day we walked around Lake Hollywood?" he reminds me, smiling.

"Yes," I whisper, my heart pounding and overflowing with love for him.

"Look, I know that we aren't getting engaged until we make it through the year, but will you indulge me here?"

"Indulge away," I grin.

"I had these made for us, and now seems like the perfect time to share them with you." I watch him pull on the tassels of the pouch and gently pull it open. He reaches inside and pulls out two gold bands-our promise rings. What's interesting is that instead of the smooth flawless finish of most gold bands, they are hand formed and hammered. In their rough satin finish you can see irregular tiny bumps and ridges in the gold. They are beautifully imperfect, just like us.

I notice there is writing on the inside of my ring. I look over at him.

"_My Bella~I promise to love you forever_," he states quietly. He gently slides it onto my finger.

I slowly turn my hand in the light, admiring how completely right it looks and feels. A moment later I reach for his ring. "What does yours say?"

"It's not engraved yet. I figured I'd let my wonderful writer decide on the words."

"Thank you, Edward…for the ring, for New York…for loving me in your big, brilliant way."

He takes my hand and runs his finger over the ring, now nestled on my finger. His smile melts me. "You're really mine, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

As I watch him, I reflect on the reality of our future. We're both flawed and most likely always will be. He's my possessive moody boy, and I'm his obsessive insecure girl. Knowing that, we must accept the fact that there will be some hard moments stirred into our beautiful life. There may be some angry days and emotional nights-but I'm no longer afraid of that. We have a big love that will push us through. This level of intensity and passion may not be for everyone, but it's who we are and it's worth fighting for.

I slide his ring on, and he watches me intently, his eyes wide with wonder and joy.

"You are everything to me, Edward…you're my forever too."

As we gently kiss, I realize that I already feel married, bound to him in a way that transcends a legal document or big wedding ceremony. Whether in New York or Malibu, Paris or Bakersfield, as long as we're together, we'll make it work. We may wait a year to make it official, but we have promised each other our futures and the future starts right now.

We have embraced our undeniable destiny. Here on our moon lit balcony, with the world at our feet, we are steady and sure as we take our first step towards our happily ever after.

.

The End

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_**I am incredibly grateful for this experience and appreciate those of you that grew to love this couple as much as I do. They have lived in my head and my heart for over a year. Although I'm sad to let them go I'm quite proud that I told their story the way I wanted to and never missed a weekly update, even when that meant posting it in some crazy places! **_

_**For those of you that have enjoyed the story but not reviewed yet—I would really love to hear from you. And for my regular reviewers I can't tell you how much I will miss that weekly connection of hearing how each chapter affected you. Thank you so much for encouraging me on.**_

Saturday April 9th will be the one year anniversary for when I started posting Work of Art so I will post the epilogue on that day to celebrate. I have been asked about a sequel and I'm not planning on one but you will enjoy the epi's glimpse into Artward and Bella's future.

**If you would like to read future outtakes or a possible new story I'm thinking about please remember to put me on author alert. Azu and I are also going to work on a blog so I can get all of the paintings, photographs and story shout-outs gathered in one place.**

**I love you guys…thank you so much for reading Work of Art.**


	61. Chapter 61  Epilogue

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Work of Art.

**A final thank you to my great beta TwilightZoner and my pre-readers, wonderful CallSignC30 and my dear Carmen.**

**Thank you to my Twilighted reader, Nevaeh Rae for sending me the quote for the epilogue. **

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_**I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my dad who was a wild artist. When he met my mom she became his Bella, taming him just enough that they could have a great life together. My memories of him inspire me every day.**_

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_**This day a year ago I posted the first chapter of this story and embarked on a great personal adventure. Thank you so much for coming along for the ride. I'm delighted to now present to you this glimpse into Bella and Edward's future. So with no further ado…..**_

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**Work of Art Epilogue-Seven Years Later**

_"What would it be like if you lived each day, each breath, as a work of art in progress? Imagine that you are a Masterpiece unfolding, every second of every day, a work of art taking form with every breath." ~ Thomas Crum _

_._

Even though I hear the waves crashing and feel the sun warm on my skin, it still takes a minute to realize where I am. The voices draw me further out of my impromptu nap, the gentle breeze moving over me, the softest sable brush painting me across the sand.

His voice, the one that is always with me-filling me, holding me up-grows stronger, and it sparks my attention.

"Elizabeth Rose! Stop right there, what did I tell you about going up to dogs you don't know?"

I open my eyes in time to see her head of auburn curls turn back towards him, her wide green eyes guilty. The frisky terrier takes off to chase a bird near the water.

"But Daddy, he's such a nice doggy."

He scoops her up in his arms and carries her back to where our towels are spread on the sand.

"He may be a very nice dog, baby girl, but he doesn't know you, so he could bite you just because he's scared or nervous. You have to promise me not to go up to doggies you don't know."

"Okay, Daddy, I will."

The love radiating off the two of them is brilliantly blinding. He plants a kiss on her forehead, and turns towards me, noticing that I'm awake. His smile is warmer than the sun.

"Look Lizzie, Mommy's awake."

She comes over to me and pats my head, her little hand sticky and sweet. Her touch makes my heart flutter.

"Hi, Mommy. Did you have a good nap?"

I yawn and stretch. "Sure did, Sweet-pea. What have you been up to?" I reach out and pull her closer, her little legs and arms folding until she settles into my arms.

"Daddy took me in the water and guess what? Daddy promised he would take me surfing soon. I'm going to ride on his surfboard with him like in _Lilo and Stitch_!"

I give him a look, raising my eyebrows.

He gives me the melty smile back and shrugs his shoulders.

"Anything for my girl."

She glows, because he may be her daddy, but he _is _Edward. After eight years of watching what just his presence does to females, I should know.

"Well, we'll see about that," I kick back, knowing that he likes it when I keep him in line. I'll try to act like the adult in this equation, but the two of them can wind around my heart and easily throw me off course.

.

Back at the house, brushed off and washed up, Lizzie swings her legs while she pulls lettuce out of the salad spinner. She carefully picks up one piece at a time and drops it in the bowl. I know I shouldn't let her sit on the counter but she likes to be up high where she can help and watch us cook.

"Are you making chickypikadah, Mommy?"

"No Sweet-pea, not chicken piccatta. Just some simple pasta with our salad."

_Whatever happened to kids eating chicken nuggets and Kraft Mac n' Cheese?_

I swear, Edward has done a number on our girl. She will be a culinary social outcast in kindergarten. He packed a bento box of sushi for the pre-school picnic, and she had to hear about it for days.

"_Don't worry about following the crowds, Lizzie,"_ he advised her. _"You will set the trends, and before you know it they will all want sushi for lunch."_ And of course Dad was proud that the teacher couldn't get over our four year old's dexterity with chopsticks. Just another one of Edward's traits she's inherited.

I smile when I think about what a great dad Edward has turned out to be. I have to admit, I was nervous at first, knowing what a dramatic change our life would take being parents-and Edward never handled change well. He needs lots of quiet time and attention from me. How would he handle the unpredictable noise and demands of a baby and my focus being devoted to another?

But from the moment in the delivery room, when he tearfully cradled her into his arms, I knew my fears were for naught. If anything I would have flashes of jealousy at sharing him sometimes, to see him gaze at her with his all-consuming love and devotion. But then the mothering side of me would always win, and I would melt to know my baby had a daddy that loved her more than life itself.

"Hey girls, how's lunch coming?" he asks as he bounds in the kitchen, freshly showered and wonderfully distracting.

"Almost ready. Will you cut the tomatoes for our special helper?"

He cuts the wedges and hands them one at a time to his girl, who carefully drops them in the bowl. "You're such a good salad maker, Lizzie." He winks at her, and then turns to me.

"Hey baby, I got another call from Sondra at the Guggenheim. They still are looking at Fall next year for the show."

"So it's really going to happen?" I ask excitedly.

"It sure looks like it." He smiles happily. "And the lucky break is that they have it tentatively set it for October…so it wouldn't conflict with Lizzie starting Kindergarten."

"Kindie garden!" Lizzie squeals, clapping her hands. She is already excited to move to the "big kids" school.

"My baby girl is growing up, Mommy," Edward responds affectionately. "She's going to be hanging with the big kids in the big K."

Lizzie glows.

"She is! And now she can start with everyone else," I reply, relieved. "You know, as great as all the traveling has been, once school starts we are going to have to settle down more."

"I've already told Jasper that," he agrees. "Like that amazing month-long tour of shows and events in Asia last fall. We can't do stuff like that unless it is during her summer break."

I look over at Lizzie who is re-focused on her salad, now dropping in toasted pine nuts as she quietly sings to herself.

.

After lunch we have a little chat as I tuck her in for her nap.

"Mommy, are Leo and Pablo still coming over tomorrow?" She makes a scrunched face, like she just bit into a lemon.

"Yes, why Sweet-pea? Is there a problem?"

"I'm really mad at Leo."

"Really? I thought he was your best friend? Did you have a fight?"

"He said his momma was a better artist than daddy."

I laugh to myself. _That's Rose's boy all right._

"Really? And what did you say to that?"

"I got so mad I told him he was a stupidhead."

"Now Lizzie, do you think that was the right thing to do? You know that isn't nice even though he was wrong to say that. Two wrongs don't make a right."

_I can't believe stuff like this is actually coming out of my mouth. I sound like my mother did and it's unnerving._

She dips her head and pulls on one of her curls. Yeah, but I was really mad. I love Auntie Rose, but no one is better than my daddy." She puffs her little chest out and puts her little hands up in the air. "He has paintings in those fancy places where you have to be quiet."

"You mean museums," I confirm.

"Grandpa said Daddy is really famous and that's why we go to those mooceeums and see Daddy's pictures."

"Yes, that's true."

"Grandpa also said that Leo and Pablo are named after famous artists. Is that why they think their mommy is better?"

"No matter what they think now, just because they are named after famous artists doesn't mean that they are better. Besides, there is no such thing as _better _in art. Just like no one color is better than the other."

"But I like yellow best, Mommy. It's better than the others."

"That means it's your favorite, baby, that doesn't make it better than the other colors. I love purple best. It just means yellow is your favorite and purple is mine."

"And what's Daddy's favorite?"

"You will have to ask him, but my guess is that it changes with his mood." I laugh to myself. _Oh, if she only knew. _

"Butterfly kiss, mommy," Lizzie reminds me before I get up to leave. When I was young my mom used to give me butterfly kisses by fluttering her eyelashes against my cheek. Lizzie giggles as I do the same for her before I pull the blanket up around her.

I stand in the doorway watching my baby girl close her eyes and relax. These moments are bittersweet for me, so joyful to have my little girl and then so sad that my mom never got to meet her.

For a long time I was so devastated and furious with my mom for abandoning me. My need to see her again had been a yearning deep inside of me, no matter how much I tried to push it out of my mind and my heart. When the first season of my show took off I admitted to Edward that I was always holding my breath, hoping she would somehow see it and track me down. He was so heartbroken for me that he and his dad hired a top notch private eye to find her. Within a week I got my answer; mom had died from an overdose near the border in Nogales, Arizona less than three months after she'd disappeared.

As devastating as the news was, it helped me to know why she hadn't contacted me in all those years. Finally knowing the truth eventually helped me find peace-one of the most important gifts Edward could have given me.

.

When I head back downstairs I find Edward on the couch debating with someone on the phone. I only have to listen for a bit to realize that he's talking to Jasper. I can feel Edward's tension rise the longer they talk. I step behind him and start rubbing his shoulders and running my hands through his hair. Almost immediately I can feel his mood shift. When they sign off, he pats the cushion next to him. I am more than happy to curl up by his side.

"What's up, handsome?" I stroke his thigh as he sighs, letting his head fall back.

"I'm just feeling so much pressure. I mean, I'm glad that Jasper has made all this headway into the Chinese market and finding serious new collectors, but I'm starting to feel like I can't keep up. Plus there is so much I need to do with the foundation."

"Is there any way I can help? Are there other things I can take off your plate so you can focus solely on painting? I can help with the foundation stuff too."

"You're a love to ask, baby. But aren't you going to be going into pre-production meetings soon to develop a new season? You're going to be as busy as me. We'll need Delia here with Lizzie full time."

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about that. You know my contract is up for renewal. What do you think about me talking to Jackson about taking some time off? I could work on the new book from home and then have a lot more time for Lizzie and to support you with what you need."

"Are you sure you'd want to do that? You wouldn't miss the TV stuff?"

"I'm tired, and Sweet-pea is growing up so fast. I'd love to have more time with her. And you have always supported me with my work. I'd like to do more to help you. Besides, Jackson said I can do a few specials and keep my foot in the door. Last season was particularly rough, so he said that they are half-expecting me to take a break."

"Well, Lizzie and I would love to have you around more. I think it's a great idea but only if it's really what you want to do."

"I'm sure. Okay then, I'll call him this afternoon."

He turns towards me and frames my face with his hands. His gaze is long and deep, as if he is looking right into my soul. Finally he smiles.

"I love you, woman…so damn much."

"I love you too," I sigh. And when our lips meet it is like warm honey on my lips. All the love radiates through me until even my little toe is ready to play footsy with his.

He pulls me closer and touches me _just so,_ and before you know it, I am straddling him as he kisses me, his hands weaving through my long hair.

"What do you think?" His eyes twinkle as his hands graze my breasts. He starts to slowly pull my shirt open.

"She's a really good napper."

"Just like her mommy." His hands cup my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples.

"And she's up there, and we're down here." I kiss his neck and nip his ear lobe with my teeth.

"We could be quiet," he suggests, moaning softly.

"And fast." I shut my eyes and smile as he kisses the swell at the top of my breasts.

"Not too fast," he groans as I grind myself over his erection. I lift my hips up so that I can slip my hand between us and grasp him through his jeans.

"You feel so good," I sigh as I palm him while he undoes his buckle. When my hand finally wraps around his arousal, so hard and hot,he lets out a loud moan.

The little voice is stern. "Mommy, why are you hurting Daddy?"

_Damn!_ Before we turn to look at our girl, with her Shirley Temple pout and hands on her hips, we share a horrified wide-eyed look.

I lift up enough so Edward can close up his pants without her seeing. At the same time I pull my shirt closed.

"Sweet-pea, Mommy wasn't hurting Daddy."

"Daddy sounds like he's hurt. Are you okay, Daddy?"

He coughs, looking horrified. "Yeah, baby girl, Mommy was just giving me a massage and I moaned because it was helping me feel better."

She raises her eyebrows, clearly not buying it. We concluded a while ago that Lizzie is much smarter than either one of us.

"I didn't hear a thing-she's never that quiet," I whisper with frustration as I shift off his lap.

"Yeah, suddenly she's stealthy," he agrees quietly as he pulls a throw pillow across his lap. "I have a new nickname for her-_mini-Ninja_."

"Don't give her any ideas," I say before turning back towards our little one who is still in a stand-off, her tiny arms now folded across her chest.

"What are you doing out of bed anyway, Elizabeth? You are supposed to be napping."

"I needed to ask Daddy what his best, favorite color was."

"And that couldn't wait until after your nap?" I ask, exasperated.

She shrugs her shoulders.

"Come on, Lizzie," I say firmly, as I regretfully work my way off the couch and take her hand. "You know this is nap time, and if you don't nap you aren't going to have art time with Daddy."

"Okay, Mommy," she replies, understanding what's at stake. She smiles at Daddy and waves her little hand. Her studio visits with him are her favorite time and, I suspect, his too.

We are a few steps up the stairs when we hear Daddy call out.

"Green," he yells.

We both turn back to see him smiling.

"Your favorite color is green?" I ask, curious.

"Why green, Daddy?" Lizzie chimes in.

"'Cause it's the color of my baby girl's eyes."

.

"Is it time yet, Mommy?" She rubs the last bit of nap from her sleepy expression.

I smile as I watch her drink her juice and nibble on her bunny shaped crackers.

"Five more minutes, Sweet-pea. Let's finish this book first."

As soon as Lizzie was old enough to walk and express her words, she made it clear she wanted to spend every possible moment in the studio with Edward while he painted. At first he was so proud and delighted, but he quickly realized that it made it almost impossible to get any significant amount of work done. So we created a compromise where she had a date with him for thirty minutes any day that he was working. There were times their dates would last an hour, or once only five minutes when Lizzie started to have a melt-down because she wanted to paint on one of his finished canvases, but for the most part we tried to keep to a strict schedule because it made all of our lives easier to navigate. There is _Daddy-time _in the studio and _Lizzie/Daddy time_ in the studio.

I notice he's rotated his work on the walls when Sweet-pea and I step inside. There is a mix of color studies and a few pieces from previous series that he didn't want to give up. I asked him once why he kept _Rock, Paper, Scissors_ up in the studio, a painting that was part of a series inspired by children's games. He painted it when Lizzie was about two. It was one of his only groups of work that had harsh reviews even though he really loved it. He explained to me that it continues to hang over his desk both to humble and inspire him. He stays true to his art, insisting he'll never paint for the critics, and I admire him for that.

.

The little artist's ridiculously fancy easel is next to his. I made a fuss when he bought it, but she is very proud of her easel and she loves to paint next to him. Despite the challenges, they are so happy painting in the studio together. The sounds of the Benny Goodman Orchestra float through the air as Sweet-pea bounces with excitement.

After helping her put on her little smock, I linger in the doorway while she pulls out her paint set. He already has fresh water and brushes on her taboret.

"What shall we do today, baby girl?" he asks.

"Tell me the story again, Daddy, about the little girl with the pet sea serpent."

"The one that she kept in her swimming pool?"

"Yeah, that one," she confirms.

"Okay, but you paint the serpent while I tell the story."

"I can't paint the sea serpent, daddy…I don't have any brown paint."

"Why does the serpent have to be brown?" he asks, perplexed.

"That's what Uncle Jasper told me. He said serpents are brown."

I smirk from the doorway. _Oh, this ought to be good._

"Okay, Lizzie, here is our life lesson for today. Don't ever take artistic direction from an art dealer, they only care about what sells."

"What's an art dealer, Daddy?"

"Someone who takes the artist's paintings and sells them to people so that the artist can stay focused on painting not selling. But enough about that, paint your serpent any color you want…yellow, red, with polka dots or stripes…anything."

"What would you do Daddy?"

"Well, the last time I remember painting a sea serpent he was lime green with orange nostrils and bright purple fins, but that was my serpent. You have to do your very own from your mind."

She dips her brush in the blue and gets to work.

.

It's early evening when I navigate my way down the stairs slowly in my new heels and dress. As I reach the bottom I see Edward crouched down next to his Lizzie looking through her little backpack. She's having her monthly sleepover at Grandpa's, so he is doing a final check on her stuff.

Watching him with her like this pulls at my heart. Being a dad has grounded Edward in ways I couldn't have anticipated. The intensely volatile man of our early days together is a distant memory. He wants to be the best man he can be for his little girl, and we all benefit as a result.

"I don't see Lambie, baby girl. Can you run upstairs and see if he's still on your bed from your nap time?"

"Okay, Daddy." She nods solemnly before she scampers upstairs. Edward and I both know she won't sleep well without her Lambie. When she was a baby, we accidently left him in grandpa's New York apartment and didn't realize it until the plane had taken off returning us back to L.A. Lizzie's world may as well have ended, and Edward was unrelenting on the airplane credit card phone until one of the building's housekeepers found him. The doorman Fed-Ex'ed Lambie home overnight.

"Oh my," my man says appreciatively as he notices me by the stairs. "You look beautiful, baby." He stands up and approaches me, slowly taking in my new dress and the extra care I've taken on my hair and make-up. Running his hand down my arm he kisses me on the cheek. "I'm one lucky man," he sighs.

"You're looking pretty hot yourself, handsome," I reply as I reach up and straighten his tie. "We haven't dressed up this much in a while. It's kind of fun."

"Well, I'll remind you that you said that when we get cornered at the museum event. I can only take so much of those artists trying to charm you."

"And I can only take so much of their girlfriends trying to charm you."

"So the _secret Masen escape signal_ will be allowed tonight?" he asks with one eyebrow cocked.

I nod. "Besides, I don't want to be late for our reservations at Vikings."

.

On the drive to Grandpa's I coach Lizzie while Edward quietly drives. I can tell he is trying hard not to laugh at our absurd conversation.

"Now, Sweet-pea, remember our agreement that you are going to stop asking Grandpa for things. Daddy had to send away the landscape person that showed up last week with plans to build a duck pond in our yard."

"But I love ducks, Mommy, and Grandpa said he wanted me to have ducks."

"That's not the point, baby. We just don't get everything we want in life. We can visit duck ponds, we don't have to have one."

"You, go Momma…you're on a roll," Edward says in a low voice."

I elbow my husband, who can be an enabling father to our indulged child.

"Maybe Grandpa can have the pond at his house? His backyard is huuuge!"

"Elizabeth Rose, are you listening to me?"

"Well, Grandpa said that he wants to give me every little thing that my heart desires."

I turn towards Edward. "You are going to have to have another talk with him," I huff. It's great we take her to the food pantry to sort the food for the needy and have her pick out her toys to give to less fortunate kids when she gets new ones, but that doesn't counteract all of the ways he spoils her.

He reaches over and squeezes my hand. "I'll talk to him, baby. But he warned us he was going to be like this."

.

When we get to grandpa's mansion in Bel Air, Lizzie tears through the grand entry and long hallway, straight into the media room to find him. I rush along behind her so I arrive just in time to see her jump up into his strong arms.

"Grandpa!" she squeals.

"My princess has arrived," he announces as he gives her a squeeze. "Are you ready for our big date tonight?"

"What movie tonight, Grandpa?"

"How does _Citizen Kane _sound?"

"What?" I ask, jumping into their bubble.

"Don't worry, little mama, I was joking. We'll see that next year when she's much older." He grins. It's going to be my job to make sure our girl knows all the classics. I know he loves to tease me. "How about _Mary Poppins_?"

"That's more like it," I respond, breathing a sigh of relief.

Just then Edward steps into the room and gives his father a hug. I ask Lizzie to help me unpack her miniature overnight bag upstairs so Edward can give his frequent gentle lecture to the overindulgent grandpa.

I carry Lizzie's little suitcase upstairs. Her room links to the guestroom where Delia, our nanny, stays whenever Lizzie spends the night at grandpa's. In this opulent princess bedroom, the canopy bed is a confection of pink tulle trimmed with tiny silk roses. There is a mural of a castle set in a country landscape on one of the walls. I still hate this princess conspiracy corporate America had created so they can merchandise to little girls, but Masen's designer was unrelenting. Of course I have compensated by doing her room at home like a jungle, complete with homemade vines draped across the blue sky ceiling and simple furniture from Ikea. Her stuffed animals look right at home in the earthy setting.

I hand Lizzie her toiletries bag and instruct her to leave it on the bathroom counter.

"Okay, promise Mommy you will brush your teeth tonight and tomorrow morning before Daddy and I pick you up."

"Yes, Mommy."

"And say all your _please_ and _thank you's_ to Grandpa and Delia."

"Yes, Mommy."

I pull her into my arms and hug her tight. "I love you, Sweet-pea."

"Me too, Mommy. I love you too." She takes my hand, and we head downstairs to see what our two favorite men are up to.

..~*~..

"So what the fuck, now every museum event has a red carpet?" Edward scowls as he drives up to the valet.

"Everything is about Hollywood and entertainment. Even _Vogue_ doesn't use models but actresses on their covers now," I point out.

Once we are out of the car we steel ourselves, and I link my arm with his before we step forward. The explosion of flashes are blinding, but I keep the smile plastered to my face as we pause to pose.

"Edward Masen and Bella Swan have arrived," One host announces into his microphone. "Let's see if we can get the most adored couple in the art world to come say hello."

Edward pulls me closer. I know this makes him really tense. He never has gotten used to it. I take a deep breath and subtly pull him towards the man in the tux so we can get it over with. Honestly, I doubt I'll get used to this part of our life either, but it's part of the business we chose to be in.

"Oh good folks, they're coming over. World famous artist, Edward Masen and his gorgeous wife, media art darling, Bella Swan! Edward, we just heard about the foundation you've started to support art programs in public schools."

I squeeze his arm to silently say, _see aren't you glad now that we stopped?_

Edward smiles cordially and explains the importance of bringing art to kids in schools where it has been abandoned. That some of the great talents of tomorrow are languishing in schools that don't even offer art due to budget cuts. They will only have a chance if they are encouraged and given an opportunity to show what they can do.

I watch him while he talks about this project so close to his heart, his passion evident in every word and gesture. I love him so much that in moments like this it takes my breath away.

"And Bella, we loved the special you did with the First Lady showcasing her and the President's favorite American artists. What was that experience like for you?"

"Amazing really. She is so thoughtful and knowledgeable about art that I was able to get past being overwhelmed with who she was and just enjoy our conversations."

"Well, you two certainly have a lot of fabulous things going on. Thanks so much for stopping."

"Our pleasure," Edward says before we move away.

The rest of our time at the event is spent saying hello to people we know and talking the business of art. This is work, so we work it. My favorite moment is when I look over and realize that Edward is deep in conversation with James and his new wife, Katiana, the curator for MOCA. _My, how things have changed,_ I laugh to myself before I join them.

Back during our year in New York we ran into James at many art events, and Edward could hardly contain himself. Once I actually had to physically restrain him and drag him out to Sixth Avenue when James cornered me at the Annie Leibovitz retrospective at the Center for International Photography. But Edward had known Katiana for years as she was one of the early supporters of his work when she was only an assistant curator. Once she married James, Edward finally decided to make peace with him, and the last couple of years we've actually been friendly.

Later, Edward and I drift into a group to listen to one of the trustees pontificate as to his plans for the museum, and I look up to see my love's green eyes glazing over. Edward looks over at me, runs his fingers through his hair and pulls his earlobe. I nod and reach for his hand. We make our escape, him pulling me along as fast as my heels will allow.

When we finally settle into our booth at Viking we both immediately relax. Edward loosens his tie, and I slide off my shoes so we can play footsie. We order sparkling water while Edward looks at the wine menu.

But before my naked foot can sneak up his pant leg my phone goes off, and I grab it in case it's about Lizzie even though we just talked to her. But instead of a call it is a text with the millionth question Alice has asked me about pregnancy. Looking in from the outside, one would think she was the first person in history to be with child she is being so dramatic about everything. But I've watched them go through the hell of four rounds of in vitro before this pregnancy took, so I understand their anxiety. I keep telling her that she needs to relax for the baby, but also because I want her to enjoy the experience of being pregnant. The funny part is Jasper is just as intense. He does stuff like buying _Consumer Reports_ to make sure they are getting the best, safest baby stroller.

_I just threw up,_ she texts.

_Thanks for sharing, _I reply.

_I threw up after lunch too._

_Alice, I'm at a romantic dinner with my handsome husband, so as wonderful as it is to hear these details from you, I can't chat_.

"Alice again?" Edward asks.

"How'd you guess? That girl has the worst timing, I swear!"

I look over to see Edward smile and roll his eyes. The text goes off again.

_But should I worry that I'm throwing up at night?_

I know she had read every pregnancy book and knows the answer to this but I play along.

_No, morning sickness is a misnomer. Throwing up anytime is normal._

_Did you throw up at night?_

_Yes! Alice you are fine! As for me -romantic dinner-gorgeous husband-gotta go!_

When I look up again, the waiter is pouring our sparkling water.

"What shall we toast?" he asks, lifting his glass and not wanting to wait for the wine.

"How about another big show in New York, Edward. I hope you appreciate how extraordinary this is for someone so young. I'm so proud of you, and I'm incredibly proud to be your wife."

"Oh, I love hearing that," he sighs, as he leans over and kisses me. "We've had a hellofa great run, haven't we, baby?"

I nod. "The best of times. And you know, even when we have hit our little or big bumps, we always managed to work it out, Mr. Masen. We can get through stuff that would take most couples down. Remember the year we moved to New York so I could shoot the first two seasons there?"

"Yeah, what did I overhear you call it once? _The year of heaven with a little bit of hell._"

"Yes, well we learned a lot from all of that. It was the best of the best mixed in with some challenging times." I take a sip of my water. "Your award for best dramatic statement was about a month into my show's tapings, when I had that week of late night shoots with that nocturnal artist. I got home at midnight on Friday, and you had gone back to Malibu with a note that you needed a _break_."

He drops his head, ashamed.

"Poof, gone." I smile at him, shaking my head. I can smile about it now, but it just about killed me back then.

"Yeah, Cara still hasn't let me forget that either."

"How long did you stay away again?"

"A week, but really, I was ready to come back to you the minute I stepped into my house and realized what a mistake I'd made. Remember how soon after I returned, things started to change. You have to admit that things got a lot better once I started making new friends….people I could hang with while you were away."

"And then I became a jealous bitch because you were having too much fun."

"We had to smooth out the rough edges for sure."

"Yeah, you only tried that leaving thing one other time."

"Oh, when that hyper-realist artist dude starting calling and leaving suggestive messages at the house. I was going to give him some hyper-realism time with my fist and you stood up for him."

"And that was, shall we say, the proverbial last straw."

"But that was also when you started really getting feisty… you called me at the airport and said that if I got on the plane back to L.A., we were done."

"I meant it too. You couldn't keep leaving me, and we couldn't keep having the same stupid fight. If you didn't realize that I was completely yours by this point, you never would."

"So I'm standing in the security line realizing that I was going to lose you. And I'm trying to pull my plastic trays back off the conveyer belt. I threw the whole line into a tizzy. Security was all over my ass. What a nightmare."

"As I recall, despite all that you made it back from JFK in record time. So I guess my being feisty was effective."

"Yup, and that was some particularly great make-up sex. That was the first time you tied me to the bed posts and had your way with me."

I smile. "Yes, your punishment was soooo severe," I tease. "But we also had so much fun that year. That first Christmas together was so storybook-like…all those night walks through the city seeing all the holiday windows and decorations and feeling the cheer. Do you think we will ever live full time in New York again?"

"It's still a little too much for me but it would be cool for Lizzie to go to school in the city around all that energy and culture," he comments.

"She'd love it. She always asks when we are going to New York again. She would live in the Natural History Museum if we'd let her."

"What do you think was the craziest thing that happened that year?" he asks.

I pinch a bite off the olive bread and think for a moment.

"Remember when I was doing that Daniel Merriman shoot at his remote farm in Vermont and that huge storm hit. We got snowed in, and there was a problem with the snowplow? We were going to be stuck there overnight. I was so nervous about what you would do when you found out. Of course, I had to be trapped with the best looking artist I had interviewed, besides you, of course."

"Oh, I remember it well," he says carefully.

"Well, when I finally got through to you on your cell phone, I was surprised how calm you sounded. I didn't realize that you'd already been making plans. So later when you rolled up, riding shotgun on the snowplow you had arranged all the way from the next town, I had to laugh."

"Yeah, well, I sure as hell wasn't going to leave you stranded with him in his cozy-as-hell country cottage and fucking art barn. I had to pay that snow plow guy a fortune, but it was worth every penny."

"That was one time that _jealous Edward_ came in really handy. I was so happy to be back at home with you…_my hero_." I pretend-swoon.

"I just realized something," he says with a stunned look on his face.

"What's that?" I ask, curious.

"This is the first time in a while we haven't spent most of our time talking about Lizzie."

I laugh. "You're right. But now that you mention it let's call over there and make sure Delia has her tucked into bed. When we called on the way over to say goodnight she sounded pretty hyped up."

"He probably gave her gummy bears with the movie again. I swear it takes her two days to get over those monthly sleepovers with Grandpa."

And as he starts to dial my heart swells to realize how much we miss her when she isn't with us. We are the three musketeers now, and it's better than I could have ever imagined.

.

When we finally pull through the gates in Malibu, Edward glances at the clock on the dashboard.

"Baby, I promised Nigel I would call between seven and eight London time about the installation questions he had. They are working on it this morning since the gallery is closed today."

"That's fine. I'm going to jump in the shower so take your time."

The steamy shower relaxes me, and as I finish rubbing lotion into my skin and pulling on my bathrobe, I get an idea for dessert and head down to the kitchen.

.

"What are you doing, my love?" I hear the humor in his voice since he just caught me digging through the refrigerator. "You can't be hungry again."

"No," I agree, pulling my bathroom tie tighter, "but I wanted something sweet. Since you are done with your call you can tell me…where is that damn chocolate mousse we made the other day?"

He steps up behind me and wraps one arm around my waist while the other points inside. "Ah, sweets for my sweet…it's back there, Bella. Now that you mention it, I think I want some too." He starts to reach towards the bowl and I get my game on, pushing him aside.

I grab the small bowl victoriously. "Ha! All mine!" I tease, as I dodge past him towards the silverware drawer.

He saunters slowly towards me. "Come on now, baby, won't you share?"

I shake my head as I take my first bite. "Mine!"

He lifts his eyebrows and gives me that look-the one that melts me from the inside out. "I'll make it worth your while," he taunts.

I lean against the breakfast table, and scooping up a spoonful, I wave it at him. "I like _those_ kinds of deals. Okay, big boy…come and get it."

When he gets close I can feel the heat coming off him, for instead of giving him his bite, I slowly drag the spoon across my lips and slide it in my mouth. I'm such a tease. "Come on," he groans. "I want some."

"Here, baby," I whisper as I compensate, feeding him a generous spoonful, getting chocolate all over his full lips.

"Oh, I made a mess," I say softly as I reach up to kiss him, tasting rich chocolate and Edward-my two favorite tastes in the world. The heated kiss suggests things far sweeter than dessert.

When we break away I look down demurely and swirl the spoon in the dark ambrosia. I give him a sideways glance as I bite my lip. "More?" I offer.

"Oh yeah," he whispers, stepping closer.

This time I offer the spoon slowly as I watch his lips part. His tongue swirls over the mousse. I imagine it's melting in his hot mouth. I want to be that damn mousse, or at the very least the lucky spoon.

His hands gently push my hair aside so he can kiss my neck.

"I want to feed _you_ now." He puts his hands firmly on my hips, lifting me up so I am sitting on the edge of the table, then he takes the bowl from me. But instead of using the spoon, he drags his finger deeply into the chocolate and presents it to me.

"Open up," he chants.

As his finger slides into my waiting mouth, I slowly suck off every last bit of chocolate and close my teeth around his finger before he tugs it back out. His eyes focus on my lips, and I can feel his desire surround us.

"Time for my real dessert," he says with a wicked smile as he loosens the tie of my bathrobe and pulls it apart, revealing my slightly damp, naked skin. His finger goes right back into the bowl, but this time when he pulls it out he swirls his chocolate covered finger over my nipple. I shudder with the sudden coolness, but when his warm mouth settles over me, I moan loudly.

"Mmmm, delectable," he teases, coating the other nipple before he sucks it clean too. He realizes he's making me wild because he knows my body almost better than I do. His hands move over my hips and then along my thighs, before he slowly pulls my legs open.

"You taste so good, baby," he whispers low and raspy as he pushes me further back on the table.

I fall back on my elbows and watch as he trails his fingers up my inner thigh. He runs a long thin streak of chocolate against my ivory skin, starting above my knee heading straight up towards my center. His lips soon follow the trail, his tongue tasting me sweetly. I am overcome with delicious anticipation as his low moan runs through me.

"Are you going to make love to me?" I ask, every word tightly wrapped in desire. It's so satisfying to see his arousal straining against his pants, although I don't need proof of how much he wants me. We're so damn lucky because the passion is still there, even after all the years, a baby, our schedules and exhaustion…our desire for each other has never waned.

"Hell, yes," he groans. "But first I have one more sweet spot I want to taste." His finger makes the final pass in the bowl then swirls over me as my back arches.

"Edwarddddd," I gasp, looking down to see his head settle between my legs. His tongue is warmth and hungry heat, exploring, teasing, building…pleasure beyond reason. I tangle my fingers in his hair as I watch. "So good," I moan_._

_Damn, that man's tongue should be entered in the oral hall of fame._ "Ahhhhhh…" I'm getting loud and he likes it.

Edward is either intent on licking up every last bit of the chocolate, or he is greatly inspired by my writhing and moaning, for he continues loving me with great enthusiasm. I'm just lingering on the edge when my multi-tasking man does something inside of me with those long fingers that seals the deal. It's one of those soaring climaxes where you are being split in two and your toes curl back as you reach and climb. Once you step off the cliff, nothing can stop the freefall-wanting to laugh and cry while gloriously gliding back to earth. Bliss is mine, thanks to my wild man with his magic ways.

My chest still heaving, I'm fighting to catch my breath as I see him straighten and slowly undo his pants. Once they are lowered and he is gloriously free, he steps forward, watching me with his dark, hungry expression.

"Tell me you want me, Bella," he teases as he licks his lips and runs his hands across my thighs.

"You know how much I want you," I growl, with a naughty smile.

I shimmy down closer to the edge of the table as he strokes himself. _Oh, how I love to watch his hand moving over his hard cock. _It is a sight I will surely never tire of.

"…how much I always need you," I whisper, aching and longing in my voice as I watch him.

"Ask me," he demands, his voice full of hunger.

"Fuck me, Edward, please fuck me," I groan, watching the flush of desire move up his chest.

Not a moment too soon he slips his hands under my knees, lifting and spreading me, and then pushes into me with purpose, filling me completely. I watch his eyes roll back with pleasure.

"So good, Bella," he gasps, "…so fucking good."

Every sensation is so intense-his size, his strength, the way he loves me as if I'm the answer to every question he's ever had.

"Yes," I moan.

I tear my eyes away from the point of contact where he's sliding into me and look up at his expression, reddened cheeks, focused eyes, passion defined.

"What you do to me," I moan.

His breath gets heavy as he finds his rhythm, thrusting hard. "You feel so good, baby. I've wanted you all night."

"I saw you watching me, I could tell," I gasp, tightening over him.

He studies me intently, his lust evident as his gaze moves over my breasts and hips. I adore the way he embraced how my body changed after Lizzie, always making me feel beautiful.

"I love the way you look at me," I say with pride as I cup my full breasts and watch him. I never take for granted how much he loves my body, and that he only has eyes for me.

"You are so beautiful…and the way you looked in that dress tonight," he pauses, panting. "Surely you knew that every man wanted you." He slips his hands under my ass and grabs, taking me harder still.

"But I only want you," I confirm, knowing he never gets tired of hearing my truth.

"Say it again, baby," he gasps, fucking me so perfectly now.

"You're all I could want, Edward…only you."

Such professions of devotion and desire undo him every time, and sure enough he arcs back as he pulses inside of me, shuddering with the impact of my words.

Once he stills, I smile to see the total contentment wash over his face as we pull apart and he gently lifts me into his arms.

"Let's go get into bed, my love," he suggests.

"Yeah, and let's bring that mousse with us," I laugh happily.

..~*~..

The next morning we enthusiastically embrace sleeping in, since it is now a rare luxury. Our little spitfire never sleeps past six, even on the weekends. When I finally open my eyes, I stretch luxuriously then curl back up to my man. I feel him stir, and then pull me closer.

"I was just dreaming about Bandalier again," he sighs.

"Was it the one you always have where we fly out of the cave dwelling and soar over the trees?"

"No Lizzy was in this one, and I was helping her up the ladder, but it was short and bright blue like the one for the slide in the kids' playground."

"Well she keeps asking to go to Santa Fe. She wants to see where we got married. What is it with little girl's interest in brides and weddings?"

"Yeah, well she always hears that we had the greatest wedding, and the only thing that could have made it better is if Lizzie could have been there."

I smile and kiss him. "I was worried you'd never get over your disappointment that we couldn't do it at Gaudi's church in Barcelona."

"Oh, that would have been amazing," he admits. "But this was just as special. New Mexico holds so much meaning for us."

"I know, you're such a romantic…the way you proposed to me at Bandalier was so perfect."

"Yeah, well you inspired me." He smiles, "So let's take Lizzie to Bandalier too, when we go next. I'll tell her about how I proposed. It's never too early for my girl to understand how a man should treat her."

"Oh, Daddy," I croon. "You sure love your little girl."

"That I do," he sighs.

"Well, you've inspired me with all this sweet talk-I'm making you breakfast in bed this morning," I tell him, my lips grazing his shoulder. "Any requests?"

"Whatever's easy, as long as coffee is involved."

"After, why don't you let me pick Sweet-pea up and you can have more studio time. I have to stop at the drug store anyway."

"That would be great, baby. I could really use the extra couple of hours, and I'm in the mood to paint.

.

When we return home Lizzie runs to the studio and tackle hugs her daddy. Even though she is interrupting his work, I let her linger with him for a few minutes so she can tell us about _Mary Poppins_.

"Oh, the nice nanny had her magic bag! And her friend lived in the chimney. And Daddy, she could fly with her umbrella! And she danced with the penguins…oh, my!" The words tumble out of her mouth as fast as she can form them. She finally pauses to catch her breath, and Edward smiles.

"We're going to go find the umbrellas now and play Mary Poppins," I tell him.

"Sounds like fun. I'm glad you had a great time at Grandpa's, baby girl," he comments, laughing.

"Yeah, we sang super cali frage a list tiks during breakfast," she enthuses. "And he let me have whippy cream and chocy chips on my waffles."

Edward rolls his eyes at me, and I shrug my shoulders in response.

"It could have been worse. She didn't bring any new toys or miniature designer party dresses home."

As Lizzie runs to the yard to help the gardener feed the koi, I remind Edward that Rose, Lauren, and the boys are coming around three for a swim and early dinner barbeque.

Emmett may join us too if he can get away from the gallery. Ever since Carlisle retired and started traveling all the time with Esme, Emmett has become a work-a-holic, but he promised he would try. We both know there's a good chance he will make it, because he loves to spend time with his boys. Rose and Lauren have always encouraged him to be involved with Leo and Pablo.

"Okay, I have that interview at three-thirty and then I can join you down at the beach," Edward confirms.

I give him a kiss and start out the door when he calls me back.

"Do me a favor, baby. Will you keep an extra eye on Pablo? I think he plays too rough with Lizzie."

"Oh, Daddy, she is much tougher than you realize. She can handle Pablo just fine."

"Tough like her mama, right?" He grins.

"Sure I'm tough-I handle you, don't I?" I smile and step in front of him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and look up into those big green eyes. "You can't protect her from everything, you know."

"Maybe," he admits, "but I sure can try."

..~*~..

It is a warm night with the moon hanging low in the sky. I grab my laptop and tall cranberry spritzer and situate myself on one of the chaise lounges on the bedroom balcony. The ocean is quiet below, just the softest sound of the water pushing towards the shore and back, its waters dark and mysterious. I take a deep breath and peel off my shirt, twisting up my hair so that I can feel the breeze against my heated skin.

The afternoon was non-stop action, so it is great to stretch out and have a quiet moment to reflect. The kids had a great time together, and I love watching Rose navigate motherhood. Of the two moms, she is the one that jumps in and carves the moat for the boys' sandcastle while Lauren soothes the son who has just been hit over the head with a plastic sand shovel. Rose lets them eat their Halloween candy with abandon, and Lauren monitors their Oreos intake. They balance each other out nicely, which is similar to how I think Edward and I are with Lizzie.

As for Lizzie dealing with the rough boys, Daddy really didn't need to worry, as she has Leo and Pablo wrapped around her finger. She bosses them around one moment and runs from them squealing the next—letting them think they have the upper hand. If I had her instincts, I would have had much less trouble with men early on.

Because of all the excitement, Lizzie crashed early following dinner and Rose and her family headed out soon after. Only Emmett hung around a bit more with us, watching the sunset on the front deck. After he left, we regretfully relent to the work we both need to do, so Edward heads to the studio, and I go to get some writing in before the new day approaches.

.

I pull open my laptop, and within minutes I am lost in my words, only the silver from the moonlight and glow from my screen defining my presence under the night sky. About an hour passes before I hear his voice.

"Bella," Edward calls.

"Out here," I reply as he approaches the French door leading to the patio.

He stops in his tracks and takes me in, half-undressed and my hair swept up. His eyes are wide, his expression playfully curious. "What are you doing out there looking like that?" he teases. "Are you trying to make me jealous of the moon?"

I laugh and smile at him as I look down at my lavender lace bra and white flowing skirt pushed up high on my thighs.

"I got hot while I was working and wanted to feel the breeze on my skin. That new editor Nick has me working with is making me crazy."

"Well, you're making me crazy looking like that."

I scoot my legs over as he sits on the edge of my chaise lounge. "Here, I know how to relax you," he says, moving my laptop to the side table. He slowly strokes my legs and massages my feet as we sit quietly under the starry sky.

"Are you going to paint some more tonight?" I ask, leaning towards him and resting my head on his strong shoulders.

"No, I'm done working," he replies. "What I'd really like to do is play with you." He feathers kisses at the nape of my neck and trails his paint stained finger down between my breasts.

"What did you have in mind?" I ask, tipping my head suggestively and biting my lip.

He lifts up so he can swing his leg over, now straddling the chaise lounge. "Well, to start with, I want to kiss you…really kiss you, my beautiful wife."

I feel my cheeks flush. _How does he do it?_ He still makes me swoon like a schoolgirl.

"Oh, I'd really like that," I whisper, inching closer with a quiet smile.

His lips graze mine ever so lightly at first, as my eyes fall closed and my hair rustles in the breeze. The next kiss brings us closer, his lips soft and warm, the passion building with each heartbeat. I moan softly and slide my hand along the nape of his neck.

"Edward," I whisper. Every sensation of being near him unfurls inside of me.

"Yes, my Bella?"

"I love you so much." The delicate strings of my heart reach out for him as his lips skim along my jaw and find their way back home.

In this most intimate moment I imagine we have always been together, sharing past lives: kisses stolen in Egyptian tombs, our footprints lightly etched in the earth of the dry African savannah, and fingers intertwined in carriages rolling through the English country side. But even though I don't doubt we've shared past lives, and we will have our future, what really matters is our glorious now.

"I love you too, baby," he sighs, devotion in his eyes as his fingers slide under my bra strap to caress my shoulder. The strap falls, and a moment later the other surrenders. He kisses me tenderly as the front of my bra is slowly eased down.

I arch back against the chaise cushion as he takes my breasts in his hands. At first he moves his fingers so lightly over me, circling my breasts, before his thumbs roll over my nipples.

"I love it when you touch me," I moan through my ragged breath.

"I want to touch every part of you." His expression is earnest yet dark, satisfied yet hungry.

I watch him close his lips firmly over my nipples as his hands gently cup my breasts. He pauses and looks up, curious, "Baby, they are so full and heavy," he runs his tongue around and over the nipple. "Are you about to get your period?"

"Hmmm, they are really full aren't they?" I whisper as I press them towards him.

"He looks up and his eyes roll back, "I love your breasts." He sucks enthusiastically as I pull his head against me and run my fingers through his hair.

My arousal is flaming inside of me, impatient and wild.

"I need you," I gasp.

He looks up and smiles _that _smile—the one that causes my breath to catch and my sex to tighten.

"Now…" I insist.

He stands up and pulls me off the chaise before leading me towards our bed. I look over at the door to the hallway, and as if reading my mind, he steps over to lock it, insuring our privacy. Only moments later he is naked and spread out on the bed before me.

"Come here," he whispers, his arms outstretched.

I take my time removing my last bits of clothing while he watches, his hand slowly stroking his impressive erection. His eyes hold lust and sheer desire, for I am his enchantress, the only woman he says he'll ever want. We have made love well over a thousand times and I never get tired of feeling his hunger for me. I slowly crawl over him until I have straddled his hips. Without another word I grasp him, rubbing his arousal against my wetness until I slowly settle down over him.

He lets out a low hiss, his hands grabbing the fleshy part of my hips as I start to slowly rock.

"Oh, you feel so damn good," I moan low and deep as I rise up, then push down over him. His eyes roll back with pleasure.

"Bella."

I look down at him, still rocking and stretching to take him all in. His expression is of reverence, but there is something else in his eyes.

I slow down as I wonder out loud, "What, baby?"

A flash of sadness passes through his expression, and I watch him run his hand over my belly. He hesitates as if he isn't sure he should tell me what's on his mind.

"What?" I ask gently, cupping his cheek with my hand, as I still. "Tell me."

"I want another baby so much, Bella. I know I promised a while back to give you more time. But time is slipping by, my love." He looks up at me, and I can feel how intensely he wants this. "And Bella," he continues. "Now you are talking about taking some time off, wouldn't this be a good time?"

His hands move gently over my hips as he watches me, trying to gage my reaction. "Besides, don't forget I'm going to be an old man."

"Edward," I whisper, "I'm so glad you want another baby."

He pulls me closer and kisses me tenderly.

"Does that mean you'll consider it?" he asks when we finally break apart.

I rest my hand on his chest, right over his heart. "Handsome, have you noticed how much I've wanted you lately. I'm insatiable, we've been fucking morning, noon and night?"

He smiles contentedly. "I've been having too much fun to question why."

I take his hands and press them against my chest. His fingers tighten over me.

"And my breasts are so full and tender." His fingers stop moving with my words.

"And I'm sleeping all the time."

Suddenly he freezes, and then shifts so quickly that I'm suddenly under him with his face just above mine.

"Bella?" he asks excitedly.

"Yes, my love, we're having a baby… Lizzie's going to have a little brother or sister."

His face explodes with joy as he takes me in his arms. Instead of words he kisses me sweetly across my face, trailing down across my breasts, and finally he kisses my belly lovingly. The warmth and contentment radiates through me until I'm sure the baby is feeling it too.

"How long have you known?" he asks happily.

"Well, I've suspected for days, but I've been wrong before. I just took the test a few minutes before you came to find me. I had just figured out on my laptop calendar when we are due. I was about to come get you."

"And?"

"We can expect our baby in February."

A tender kiss, then another and another… "I'm so happy. God, I love you Bella."

"I'm happy too, my love." I wrap my legs around him, pulling him close. "So let's celebrate."

"And I know how to start." He moans as he slides back inside of me and pulls me into his embrace.

It's true what they say about orgasms when you are pregnant. Edward took me there several times that night, making love until we were completely spent, happily collapsing into the tangled sheets.

..~*~..

Sometime in the middle of the night I feel a little hand pulling on my fingers.  
"Mommy?"

I immediately wake; thank goodness Edward remembered to unlock our door. "Lizzie, what are you doing out of bed? Are you okay, baby?"

"I had a bad dream," she says softly. "Can I get in bed with you?"

I'm tempted, but I know we should help her get over her fears, not succumb to them. We need to soothe her in her own bed.

I hear Edward rustle next to me.

"What is it?" he asks with his sleep soaked voice.

"Lizzie got out of bed. I think it's your turn to take her back."

"Please, Daddy…" our little negotiator purrs.

He doesn't even put up a fight. When he pulls her up onto the mattress, she happily crawls over between us and snuggles in.

"You know we swore we were going to stop doing this," I whisper, half taunting, half laughing.

"Uh huh." He smiles lazily as he pulls his two girls into his arms. I feel his free hand glide over me until it rests on my belly. I rest my hand over his and smile as I burrow into my pillow.

This is my family. This is the best part of my life.

For a brief moment I look out the window, and in the night sky dotted with points of light, I imagine Van Gogh's _Starry Night._ His vision, swirls of stars suspended in cobalt blue, lingers as we fall into a deep sleep.

In my dream we have lassoed the moon and flown through the Starry Night. In our bed-shaped chariot, arms and legs, large and small, are intertwined. Together we are one, full of hope and love, brimming with the sweetest promise for what our future holds.

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_The End_

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**I was so touched by your reviews for the last chapter and it would mean so much to hear from you once more.**

**I'm excited to share my new blog with you: http:/ alongtheabstractway (dot) blogspot (dot) com/ which is a visual stroll through Work of Art showcasing the art, locations and imagery from the story. I have also listed all of the shout-outs I incorporated in the chapters including many of the wonderful fanfics I have read and people I have been inspired by.**

**There is a new story taking shape in my mind so I hope to have it up before too long. Also I'm writing an outtake for Fandom For Sexual Assault Awareness so if you have any requests or suggestions let me know.**

_**I'm truly honored that you gave me your time to read Work of Art...thank you.**_

_**xoxoxo **_

_**abbie**_


	62. Epov outtake from Barcelona

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Animate Me.

**Many thanks to my beta Twilighzoner, and my pre-readers Azucena and BtwntheStacks **

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**This Work of Art**** outtake is from a much requested lemon that occurred during the Barcelona trip. It was written for the Fandom Fights the Floods fundraiser. **

**I am still receiving a lot of love and new readers for Work of Art. It is all very much appreciated.  
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**_For those of you that were asking for Edward's point of view...here is a glimpse into his mind...as you may have imagined, it's a wild place to be..._  
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**Work of Art / ****Eight Miles and a Flight of Stairs**

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I sit down in my therapist's office**.** I like a moment alone as I usually require a period of adjustment before my session begins.

First, as always, I must prepare myself to deal with the framed posters that are the most agitating part of Cara's décor. I stare at the faded prints of Chagall and Miro's work and wonder why the name of the museum, that happened to have borrowed this painting and exhibited it briefly, was more prominent than the artist's name? How would Miro feel to see his work attributed to the Walker Museum in Minneapolis as it slowly fades under these florescent lights? Would he break down and cry to see his creation framed in cheesy gold metal with earthquake resistant Plexiglas obtained during the two-for-one sale at Aaron Bros. Art Mart?

I'm feeling pain; yet I'm in here to get rid of pain…does anyone see the irony in this?

I'm not just trying to be an ass. All art should be respected. To me it's the same as seeing a broken CD case of Bob Dylan or Beethoven lying on the backseat floor of someone's car.

It reminds me of the time when after a long night of drinking at our favorite club, I got Jasper to agree that we would never do those god damn cheesy museum posters, even if I get into a show at the friggin Met. Besides the fact that at this point in my career, museum posters were unlikely, my guess is that Jasper didn't really mean it. I think he was trying to placate me after our big fight where I wouldn't talk to him for a week. I mean the ass told me that my paintings would sell better if I used more blue in them. He may as well have set my house on fire than to say that to me.

I still can't believe this _not enough blue_ comment came from someone who once considered himself an artist.

He thought I was having a hissy fit by not talking to him. No, I was keeping myself from talking to him so I wouldn't fire him. Jasper is like a brother to me, and I need him, but that blue issue-that was almost the end of us.

_Okay, focus you stupid ass-focus…deep breath. Why am I particularly wound up today?_

I can't wait for Cara to come in since when she does, she turns off the florescent lights because she knows I hate them. We can see all we need to with the window light. She's examining my thoughts, not my pores. With the glaring light gone I'll have an easier time relaxing and getting out of my head.

The door opens. The light clicks off. I take another deep breath.

Here she comes with that knowing look, settling into her squishy leather chair. My chair is taut fabric, a painful rust color speckled with bits of color that are confused as to how they ended up on this chair. What does the upholstery mean, speckled taut fabric versus squishy soft leather? Are we to determine a hierarchy established by the quality of one's upholstery?

I get the Cara smile. The soothing one. This is good. Yes, a good start. My savior is benevolent. She will smooth out my ruffles so that I can live outside my head for yet another day. Without Cara I wouldn't have Bella, so I would be willing to kiss Cara's feet and peel her grapes just so she would continue her voodoo that keeps my head above water. She conjures that magic that keeps me from scaring my Bella away.

As she opens up her leather folder (that matches her chair, I swear to fucking God) she takes her designer pen and touches the back of her neck, which encourages me to get lost in her helmet of hair. It's a sleek thing, a bob I believe they call it, and it comes to points in the front so sharp that they could inflict pain. I look at her hair a lot during the session since it is an amazing blend of yellow colors. I mean amazing. Like each fucking strand was painted separately. Like she goes underground once a month and a hundred elves take their paintbrushes and paint each strand one at a time. She probably thinks my focus on her hair is an avoidance technique but she's wrong. Every time I study her hair I see a color in there I didn't know existed. It always makes me want to go back to my studio and paint until I can create that color.

Cara clears her throat. "So…Barcelona. I think it was progress Edward that you only called me once…don't you?"

I dig my hands under my thighs. "Well, it was harder to call because Bella and I were together just about twenty-four, seven. I didn't want to worry her. We were having such a good time that I didn't want a single thing to go wrong.

"Well, I like that you were aiming high Edward, but that isn't realistic. In any trip-especially a complicated international trip, things will go wrong. It's how you choose to deal with the problems that define you." She clicks her pen. Does she know how that clicking makes me crazy? She must not because she clicks her pen again just before she glides into her next question. "How did you feel in Barcelona?"

I smile just thinking about our trip. There was a moment when I woke up with Bella in my arms that I thought I was in heaven. Really. I was disoriented from jet lag, yet so euphorically happy that in that moment heaven was the only explanation. And as long as I was with Bella, it was cool with me.

But there were also tangible, vivid feelings in Barcelona that I can tell Cara about. "The colors were so bright and warm." I explain. "It was how I remembered it from a trip there years ago. It's a city of surprises. For example, there will be four plain buildings in a row on a busy street and then suddenly the most extraordinary place you've ever seen. Which is even better than if the whole place was magic because this ensures you will be surprised."

"What did Bella think of Barcelona, of the trip?"

"Bella was so happy she was a beacon everywhere we went. Even if the light was bright, it was even brighter where Bella stood. I fell in love with her all over again."

"Do you think that's possible?"

"Well, first of all, I would never think about that. I just feel it-and believe me, I felt it." When we were in Gaudi's cathedral-you know La Sagrada Familia, I wanted to fall to my knees before her and beg her to marry me right then and there."

"But you didn't do that, correct?"

"No, but I really wanted to. I have talked about us getting married eventually, but no, I didn't fall to my knees and beg."

"But can you see that it was progress that you showed restraint? I think you would have scared her with that. She's already made it clear she wants you guys to take your time and build a solid foundation before you get married."

"Yes, I don't want to scare her. It breaks my heart when those brown eyes have fear. I would do almost anything to prevent that."

"See Edward, you're putting the needs of the one you love before your own here. This is good."

I nod. I can see that. She begins to write on the pad. I wonder if she'd mind if I drew a picture of her in her chair while she's writing about me. Then I wouldn't show her the drawings, just like she won't show me her notes.

"Okay Edward, let's talk about the stuff we've been working on recently such as your fear of abandonment and how that plays into certain dynamics with Bella. Did you experience any of that on this trip?"

"You mean like when I called you from that dinner party at four in the morning your time?"

"Yes."

"I'm still sorry about that. I was in such a state I forgot the time difference."

"Well, now that you are calmer I want to get into more depth regarding what that was about."

"It's really simple…I mean like stick figure drawings simple. There was a room full of Spanish fuckers that wanted to fuck my girl. Any man in love would have had some serious issues that evening with these men hitting on his woman. When that waiter brushed up against her breast I imagined doing a Luis Buñel on him and sliding my butter knife across his eye."

"That's very violent, Edward. Do you understand how violent that is?"

"Of course, but that's how I felt. It doesn't mean I would do it. I mean, I didn't do it, don't I get points for that?"

"Do you see a scoreboard here in my office?" She waves her hands towards the wall.  
"We aren't keeping score, Edward."

"Well, we should because I would have won the fucking game that night. I was restraining myself all the fuck over the place. Remember when Bella and I first got together in Santa Fe and I went nuts when she met with that editor that wasn't even hitting on her?"

"Yes, I remember that vividly."

"Well, compared to that I showed a Grand Canyon full of restraint that night. She had men all over her, and I didn't go after even one of them."

"Tell me more," Cara prompts me.

"See, Bella doesn't understand, which of course is part of her allure, that she is the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world. She walks into a room with her cream-dipped skin and maraschino cherry lips parted just so and men just fall over themselves. It's all they can do not to bend her over the dessert table and take her immediately while the fruit tarts cascade to the floor."

"Men?"

"Yes, all men."

"Can you consider, Edward, that when you talk about bending her over the desert table you are really taking about the beast within yourself?"

"Well, that's a given Cara, but I'm talking about the rest of the men too."

"Does it occur to you that everyone may not think the way you do?"

"Well, I sure as hell hope that not everyone thinks like I do or this would be an even crazier, fucked-up world. But these men made their intentions quite clear."

"Give me an example."

"Sure, let's take Prince fuckwad. He sat next to my baby, and I could see the heat rise off of him every time he looked at her."

"You could see the heat?"

"Yes, it was curling swirls of red. I do believe that only I see these things at times, but the swirls were perfectly defined to me. I sat across the way so I had a perfect vantage point to see it.

"So I'm sitting next to our P.R. lady, Paloma, and overheard her telling the woman next to her that the Prince had already inquired about Bella and has designs on her. Paloma had already warned him that she wouldn't be sleeping with him tonight because we had an early morning meeting, but fuckwad told her to not be so sure."

"Ah yes, you were still under that charade then that you weren't involved."

I nod my head. "Yes, everyone believed she was single-it was such a dumbass plan."

"Was Bella showing any interest in this Prince that would cause you to feel insecure?"

"No, she was just being polite. Which certainly helped me restrain myself. I knew she would be furious at me if I caused a scene."

"I'm sure you're right."

"The thing is, my girl is so damn smart. She's so much smarter than me, and she knows how to be professional in the most trying of circumstances."

"So, do you see that she sets a good example for you?"

"Yes, but the Prince was just the beginning, Cara. Meanwhile, the museum's curator, Diego the dick, suddenly becomes touchy feely Octopus man. Every chance he gets he is stroking Bella's arm or resting his hand on her shoulder."

"How did that make you feel?"

"I know you are asking if I felt threatened because he was invading her space and trying to stake a claim. But let me be a bit more caveman clear about this-I wanted to pull his fingers off, one by one."

"I find all of these violent thoughts fascinating, Edward, because you don't have a history of violent acts."

"Cara, if I acted out half of the shit that goes on in my head I'd be in jail or the loony bin now. Instead I sit in here and tell you about it." I give her a big smile.

"Anything else?"

"Well, the icing on the cake was when I find Paloma giving Bella a rubdown and asking if she can come with her to her room. Even though I didn't get the full-on lusting lesbian confirmation until the next night, it was clear to me that Paloma was hitting on Bella too."

"You are making it sound like Bella got more attention than you did. Considering that it was your show, did that bother you?"

"I was too busy freaking out to let that bother me. But I can tell you that when Paloma put Bella in that car back to the hotel, I jumped in with her. I was so mad I couldn't even talk for several blocks."

"Why were you mad at Bella if she didn't do anything to encourage this behavior?"

"I know, I know, but I'd lost it at that point." Then I smile, remembering. "So you know what my girl does? She makes it a game, and asks me if I'm planning on having angry sex with her, and that I may need to spank her."

"Interesting. What did you think of that?"

"Are you kidding? I was so aroused that I considering taking her in the back of the car."

"Bella is getting very adept at using distraction as a technique for handling your elevated episodes."

"Well, I was distracted all right. We could barely get upstairs fast enough. I had to peel her off me in the elevator."

Cara shifts in her chair. "So what happened upstairs?"

I pause. This is crossing the line for me. I don't talk about Bella and my sex life in therapy or anywhere. It's too sacred to me. I mean making love to Bella is my religion…our bed is my altar.

"You don't have to get graphic, Edward, Just tell me if you were comfortable with what happened between you two."

I close my eyes and remember the feelings: anger and fierce desire wound together so tight that I could barely breathe. My slacks were straining; I wanted to yank them open and pull her onto my lap…but instead she stands before me, her hand on her hip, taunting me.

"_So why are you going to punish me, Edward?"_

"_Because you clearly were not dissuading the people that wanted to fuck you."_

"_So you think I wanted them? And because of that you're going to spank me?" She bites her bottom lip as I watch her with fury in my eyes._

_My baby girl is playing with fire._

"_Are you sure about this, Bella?" _

_She doesn't realize that I've spanked women before. Both Irina and Carmen liked it rough. Carmen even liked it when I spanked her pussy._

_Bella slowly unzips her skirt, letting it slide to the ground. She is naked underneath, and the heat moving up my spine nearly overcomes me. She turns away so her sweet, perfect ass faces me. It's a thing of beauty. I want to paint it, I want to kiss it…I don't want to hit it. But Bella steps closer to me._

"_I've been naughty, Edward. I deserve to be spanked."_

_Fuck, I can't believe she's doing this to me. I wait for a moment to calm my mind before bending her over my knee. Her weight presses down over my erection, hard and hot against my thigh. The irony is that her pushing me to do this is what finally makes me angry enough to do it, but I need to maintain self control. I need to make sure we can trust each other in this dark game._

"_Our safe-word, Bella, is Malibu. If it gets too much say Malibu and I will stop immediately. I will spank you six times. All right?"_

_She nods immediately. Even though she wants this, I can tell that she's nervous. _

_I step into my shadow place and my voice drops low and angry. "You've been very bad and provocative tonight, Bella, and I'm very, very angry at you. This is why you are being punished. Do you understand?" She nods and moans, squirming under me. I rub my hand over the perfection that is her ass, then lift my hand in the air before snapping it back down."_

_The startling sound of my slap on her flesh is disturbingly arousing. My heart accelerates and my mouth goes dry._

"_One,"_

_I look down and my handprint is a vibrant pink impression on her soft ivory skin. I've marked her, if even just for a minute. She turns and looks up at me. I see the desire in her eyes._

"_Two."_

_I slap harder this time as I hit her other cheek. I notice her legs pull apart a bit as she waits. Her desire is radiating off her. I am already visualizing how I want to take her when this is all over._

"Edward?"

I look up to see Cara watching me curiously.

"You look unsettled. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Well, it's unsettling purposely slapping the woman you adore and then realizing that she likes it. The idea of hurting her, even if she asks for it, even if I don't intend to…is beyond reprehension."

"I see."

"After the second slap, she begged me to do it harder."

"Did you?"

"Only a bit, but I talked harder. I went all _master _on her, dominating…a caveman."

"And how did that make you feel?"

I get quiet again and let my mind focus back on that night. How did that make me feel? What did that do to me to watch Bella submissively draped over my knee? Her ass was hot pink from my own hands. I shift in my chair as I'm getting aroused-this isn't the place for that.

"_Again," she begs. This time I strike her low-it's her sweet spot, and she moans loudly. I'm overwhelmed with the need to fuck her. I need to get my rigid cock free from these slacks but I can't until her punishment is complete._

"_Three." I grit my teeth. "This is for letting those men near you so they could imagine they would have a chance to take you."_

"_How are you going to fuck me when this is over?" she groans._

"_Hard. I'm going to fuck you hard," I snap. I grab her long hair with my fist and pull back._

"_Four." She is panting. I'm starting to wonder if she really wants this after all?_

"_Are you done, Bella? Enough?"_

"_No!"_

_Despite my fierce arousal, my mind is spinning in conflict. It isn't supposed to be like this. I worship my Bella. It's fucking twisted to inflict pain on her even if she asks for it. My hand wavers before coming down again._

"_Five."_

_Suddenly she starts to kick and fight me. _

"_Safe-word!" I demand. But instead she kicks harder. _

"_No, I want more…harder," she insists._

_How much did she drink anyway?_

"_Six." The sound of the slap stings in my ear as I exhale loudly and loosen my hold on her._

"_Fuck you!" she whispers, taunting me. " Toughen up, Edward. We aren't done here."_

_My fury rises as she pushes me to continue…the beast rises in me again._

I feel the embarrassment burn across my face as I look up at Cara.

"How did I feel? Primitive, like a man...like I owned her and I liked it. I can sit here now and say that is fucked up and wrong, but in that moment it felt so right."

"Well, it is important to acknowledge those feelings, Edward."

And I acknowledge them all right. Because Bella then demanded to be spanked more, and when I hesitated, she told me that the Prince wouldn't have turned her down."

I don't like the look on Cara's face. We both know how wrong it was for Bella to say that even if she was just trying to provoke me.

"You should have stopped it then," Cara advises.

"I didn't. I barely remember the next slaps. I went quickly because at that point I was blind with lust. I remember yelling that I would kill the motherfucker if he tried to fuck her and that her pussy belonged to me. All I could think about was that she was mine and that I was going to bury myself inside of her as soon as this was done."

I shut my mouth tightly-angry at myself for getting carried away and revealing such intimate details.

Cara makes notes on her pad. I can only imagine what those notes say.

_I close my eyes again, and I see Bella before me, pushing off my lap and standing up defiantly. She still has her heels and bra on. She walks over to the dresser and gazes at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks and lips are flushed, her hair wild. She has never been more beautiful. She leans forward and pushes her hips back, taunting me with her pink ass before she gives me the "look."_

_She has those flushed lips twisted into a wicked smile. "What are you going to do now, Edward? Are you done with me?" _

_My breath is short and tight, my desire barely contained. I stand up and walk over, stopping just to her right. As she watches in the mirror, I remove my shirt and tie then undo my pants and push them down. Her eyes get dark as she takes in my arousal, my fist slowly moving up and down its length._

_I move behind her and push her down across the dresser before rubbing myself where she is wet and ready. I lean forward and bite her shoulder before whispering in her ear._

"_I'm going to fuck you hard, Bella, so you never forget who owns you. I would suggest you hold on tight." I push her feet further apart. I wait a long moment as she arches her back in anticipation._

"_Who do you belong to?"_

"_You," she whispers._

"_Do you want those other men? Do you think anyone could fuck you like I can?"_

"_No, no one could ever do to me what you do, Edward," she whispers, trying not to smile._

"_Ask me for it," I demand._

"_Please," she moans._

"_Please what, Bella?"_

"_Please, please fuck me."_

_I slam into her hard. She is even hotter and wetter than I imagined. _

_I rock my hips back and slam again and again, gradually picking up an unrelenting rhythm. I can hear the sound of our skin slapping together. It echoes in my ears even still. I keep one hand tight on her hip, holding her where I want her, and the other roughly twisting her nipple. We are heat and passion, darkness and light._

_I can tell I'm not going for the long haul. I'm too aroused, and I know that a climax is the only thing that will pull this fury out of me. "Touch yourself," I demand._

_Her hand slips between her legs, and it doesn't take long before I can feel her contracting as her ass grinds into me. The vision of watching her bring herself to orgasm is beyond words. Even though I'm supposedly dominating her in this game, she is a lioness-fierce and proud. In that moment I realize the truth- that she is actually dominating me. As soon as she starts to come I am undone, pounding her hard and fast with each stroke, her ass getting pinker by the minute. My release is mind bending, as I take her with everything I have._

I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, trying to regain focus and slow my breathing. My heart is pounding. I can only imagine what Cara thinks.

"How were things when you were…done?" Cara asks, looking down at her notes.

"How were things?" I ask, tipping my head. Is she asking about the weather or how hard I came?

"How did you feel? How did she feel?"

"Satisfied," I whispered. "Very satisfied."

Cara looks over at the clock. She looks flustered. "Well, I see our time is up, Edward. Are we meeting Thursday at the same time? We can discuss this more then."

I nod and wait until she gets up and turns her back before I stand up and adjust myself. I pull out my phone before I'm even out the door. Luckily I get phone reception in the elevator and even in the parking garage.

"Baby," I sigh a breath of relief.

"Hi love," she replies happily. "How was your session?"

"It was intense. Remember the night on our trip that I got jealous and how I spanked you when we got back to the hotel?"

She moans. "Oh course, I'll never forget that."

"Well, we started to talk about how that night made me feel. You know, how much the idea of hurting you scared me when I was raging about those men."

"Good God, you told her about the spanking? I'm so embarrassed!"

"Baby, she's a therapist, I bet that's nothing compared to some of the shit she hears about."

"Well, that night was unbelievably hot," she says in a low voice.

I picture her bent over the dresser, beckoning me with her gorgeous pink ass. I shift myself again, struggling to handle the pressure building. I need relief desperately. I need my baby now.

"Let's just say that talking about it got me thinking…and I was wondering, how soon do you get off work?"

"I'm almost done for the day. What do you have in mind?"

_I love it when she plays nice with me._

"How about if I make sweet love to you for hours and worship you to make up for being so harsh that night? I've got to have you, so can you hurry home? I'll meet you there."

"And what if I'm naughty and come a bit late?"

I sigh deeply. This woman's going to be my undoing.

"Well, then there will be repercussions. So keep that in mind."

"Oh, I will," she whispers. I can imagine her wicked smile.

I reach for my keys and turn my wrist sharply, firing up the ignition. I'm a lucky bastard because right now there are only eight miles, a flight of stairs and some easily removed clothes between me and my baby. No matter how she wants it…if she let's me be so good to her, or if she demands that I be bad; all that matters is that she'll be in my arms…

my baby, my love, my Bella.

.

* * *

_**Sigh...for those of you that hadn't read this, I am so happy to share Artward once more. I'm also currently working on a Work of Art outtake for the Fandom For Sexual Assault Awareness fundraiser. It is not too late to donate: http:/fandom4saa (dot) wordpress (dot) com/**_

_**Also-if you haven't yet, please check out my new story Animate Me. It is very different than Work of Art, but I promise it will be an worthwhile ride. http:/www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net/s/6989390/1/Animate_Me**_

_**Thanks for reading!**_

_**xoxo**_

_**abbie****  
**_


	63. Chapter 63  OuttakeLiz's Boys

Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Animate Me.

Many thanks to Azucena and BtwntheStacks for all of their help.

Also thank you to the women behind the Fandom for Sexual Assault Awareness funraiser. They have worked so hard for this very important cause.

**_IMPORTANT NOTE: This outtake is from the final chapters of Work of Art when Edward heads to his Aunt Ann's in Ojai after discovering Tanya in his hot tub. The point of view will alternate between Edward and his Father leading up to Edward meeting Bella in Paris__._**

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**Work of Art Outtake / Liz's Boys**

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_Edward~_

_I don't remember getting here, just my car cutting through the gray fog of the coastline, a blanket smothering me until there is no color…only shades of gray that get darker and darker until there is almost no light at all-no light, no air…no Bella._

_When I finally pull up to the familiar house on an unnamed street, I take out my phone and see that there are twenty-seven new messages, and I know the crazy bitch is still after me. I frantically look all directions down the dimly lit street. She's probably tracking me down right now. Everything that matters to me is slipping away. A wave of panic unfurls inside my gut. I curl over my steering wheel and surrender to the darkness._

..~*~..

Edward Senior~

I know the minute I hear Bella's voice. I know my son is in trouble.

I guess I was half-expecting it when I found out his Bella was leaving him. I know she's moving for a job and she thinks they can work it out, but she's blinded by love and hope, and forgetting how fragile Edward really is.

Honestly, I've been worried since Bella told me about the move. He thinks I don't care about him, but I do. I knew it would kill him, but of course none of us could have factored in his crazy ex-girlfriend showing up at the worst possible time. I wish they had told me about stalker-Tanya sooner so we could have spared them both this agony. The removal of annoyances like Tanya is simple when you've got money. Repairing the emotional trauma of her actions-a lot more complicated.

So Bella tells me he's escaped to Ann's, the closest person to his mom that he could get. I've always loved Ann, but she babies him just like Liz did.

I remember when Edward was a small boy, if anything freaked him out he would run and hide. It made me fucking nuts. When Liz used to send me out to find him I would insist that I was going to beat some sense into him for hiding from us, but she warned me if I did, she would take him and leave. She was like a lioness when it came to protecting the boy. I was convinced back then that's what made him soft.

Edward would find the strangest places to hide-storage sheds in neighboring yards, abandoned plastic playhouses, under the drape of a covered ping-pong table. Sometimes it would take hours for us to find him. I would yell until I was hoarse, and yell every kind of horrible threat but he would remain hidden, until one of us would find him, curled into himself in the shadows. Once home, dark disturbing drawings would soon follow. The kid worried me…a lot.

And now he's hiding once again. But this time, I'm handling it my way, and things are going to be different.

..~*~..

_My body seizes. She found me. She's pounding on the glass and will break it and then drag me out of my hiding place. Once she has me, she will suck out my soul and break me, one bone at a time._

"_Edward, Edward! Open the door!" _

_The pounding is deafening. I turn to press my palms to the glass, willing it to hold and not crumble underneath her claws. But with the smooth glass cooling my burning hands, I open my eyes and see my mother. She's crying my name._

_My fingers fumble along the door until they find the buttons, and I frantically press them over and over until there is a click, and the door pulls open._

"_Edward, what's wrong? What happened?"_

_Her strong grasp pulls me from my hiding place, and into her arms._

_..~*~.._

I was so humiliated to have such a sissy, sensitive boy. I knew he was doomed as soon as the other boys figured out how weak he was. And Liz just made it worse with her babying. She was the first one to figure out the Aspergers: his extreme sensitivity to loud noise or too much stimulation, his appalling lack of social ability, his unending obsession with his interests. Fuck, the other boys would be playing baseball in the street and he'd be lying on the floor studying old art books that Liz had collected.

I worried that he was gay. I was disappointed that I couldn't take him to football games and guy stuff. I just threw myself further into my work to avoid it all. We all paid dearly for that mistake. The money and extravagances just got bigger but our relationships got smaller. That's when Liz and I really started drifting apart until we were eventually strangers in our own home.

So when he went to that stupid art school I was relieved that he finally got a girlfriend…finally something normal out of that kid. But why did it have to be that crazy Tanya? I saw the writing on the wall first time I saw them together. Sometimes the real pretty ones are the most messed up, and Tanya certainly lived up to that theory. She almost ruined him entirely. It took someone as brave and believing as Bella to finally give him a chance at real love, and now he's losing it. It's fucking heartbreaking to even think about.

..~*~..

"_She's after me, you've got to hide me." My heart is thundering, my mouth dry as dust. I am a trembling child…a boy who hides in shadows._

_She holds me tightly for a minute, but then she pulls away to examine me. As I squint and take in her features, dimly lit from the distant street light, I realize that it isn't Mom, it's Auntie Ann. The concern in her eyes startles me out of my stupor. _

_Damn, is this some type of twisted dream? Of course it's Ann…mom's been gone for years. I must be completely losing it. _

_She looks up at me, taking my face in her hands._

"_Ann," I whisper, feeling a wave of relief. Ann will take care of me. I take a deep breath…my first one in hours. _

"_Edward,…who's after you?"_

"_Tanya's after me. She's trying to destroy Bella's faith. She's trying to destroy me."_

"_Well, you're safe here."_

_I look around bewildered. Nothing looks familiar and everything still feels dream-like. "Fuck, where am I?"_

"_In front of my house…in Ojai. You don't remember driving here?"_

"_I spent most of my way here trying to forget everything."_

..~*~..

I turn my chair away from the city view, and towards my desk.

"Noelle, come in here, ready to take notes."

Moments later she is sitting before me, her pen perched in her little hand. _She's so damn cute._

"First clear my books for the rest of the week. I'm leaving in a few minutes to get Edward in Ojai." I notice her eyebrows lift, but she doesn't say a word.

I look down at my watch. "Call Walter and tell him I have an emergency, and he must meet Edward and I at three p.m. We'll come to the law firm, then arrange a time in the next hour when I can call him and prep him for the meeting."

"Call Evelyn, and tell her Edward and Bella are flying to Paris on Sunday. I want their seats upgraded to First Class. Have her get them a suite at the Plaza Athenee - the one I like that has that great view of the Eiffel Tower. That will also go on my bill. I'll find out where Edward is booked and have you cancel it. There are other details too, but I will follow up with you later."

I lean back in my chair and ponder the reality that none of these actions make any impact on the bigger picture of Bella moving to New York. Just when I'm wondering if this is going to help, the big idea comes to me so hard and fast it takes my breath away.

"Noelle, new idea to add to the list…Edward and I need First Class tickets to JFK on the red eye…tonight."

..~*~..

"_Bella's leaving me," I whisper as my fingers dig into the couch cushions. I glance around, trying to find comfort in all the black and white photographs I've admired over the years and the soft lighting from the lamps around the room._

"_Leaving you, or moving to New York for that new job?" Ann asks carefully._

"_Does it matter which? The result is the same."_

"_No Edward, it's not the same." She hands me a glass of water and nods for me to drink it. "What did Tanya do tonight that upset you this much?"_

_I pull my hands through my hair. Fighting to keep the images, some warped X-rated power point presentation, out of my head. But they break through my weak mind, and flicker in and out in three second intervals, no accompanying soundtrack other than the hallow sound of my beating heart._

"_I'd just come home. It was early evening, and I saw a vision from my kitchen window. It felt like a dream. Maybe it was the dark shadows of the low sun, maybe her wet hair seemed brunette in the water, and maybe I wanted to see Bella so much that I created my own mirage…but I completely believed it was my girl naked and waiting for me. I rush out the door to join her. It isn't until I am only feet away, completely aroused, with my jeans halfway off that she rises out of the water and reaches for me."_

"_Oh no, Tanya?"_

_I nod my head numbly. "…it was like I was trapped in my own horror film."_

"_I was so stunned I was frozen in place. I couldn't understand what was happening. She's touching herself and looking at my arousal like she wants to consume me. And when she starts telling me all the ways she wants me to fuck her, it finally all computes, and I freak out."_

_Ann blushes and I realize that I shouldn't be speaking so graphically to her. I'm sure she understands that I'm just not thinking straight. _

"_That would freak anyone out," she says, trying to comfort me._

"_I instantly knew that her only agenda wasn't just to get fucked. She was creating a scene where my involvement would be questioned no matter whether I touched her or not…her word against mine. She's going to twist this to make Bella hate me. Everyone already knew I was on the edge."_

"_What do you mean?" Ann asks carefully._

"_Think about it…as soon as my girl leaves, I finally succumb to Tanya and allow her to come over and fill my void. My past history would not make this implausible. So I reacted the only way I knew how…I needed to get away from her and somewhere safe."_

"_And you found yourself here. You were smart to get away." She says quietly. "Oh Edward, don't worry; you're safe here."_

..~*~..

As I speed along the freeway towards Ojai, I have to admit that I'm impressed that Edward is singularly devoted to Bella. I'm not sure if I could have walked away from a very sexy woman naked and wanting in my hot tub no matter how nuts she is. Of course, he would have paid dearly if he'd fucked her. But I think with my cock when I'm in those situations. And that's why I'm alone now, without a good woman by my side.

My mind wanders over my past and I'm reminded that I'm nothing special in that regard…a man who cannot resist seduction is all too common. For all my bravado, I have never questioned that I am part of the weaker sex. My inability to resist a beautiful woman ruined the two most important relationships of my life. And my inner fury over this fuels my determination to protect Edward from losing everything.

A few minutes later Noelle calls to hook me into my call with the lawyer. I have complete confidence in Walter; he has gotten me out of a lot of hot water. He's the best…and he should be, for what I pay him. Always efficient, he leads me right into the issue as I explain Edward's nasty problem.

"I can't stress the urgency more Walter. I want a very swift and heavy-handed resolution. The damn bitch needs to be vacuum sealed in a rocket and shot into space before the end of the day."

"What are you suggesting Masen? You know our limits."

"Don't worry, I'm just making my point. No laws will be broken, we can just edge along the borders alright?"

"Don't worry, Frank has his instructions. The restraining order will be here before you are. When we are done with her she won't know what hit her."

"That's what I'm talking about Walter. That's why you guys are the best."

..~*~..

"_Edward, I've got Bella on the phone." Ann's voice is soft and urging. "Are you awake? Can you talk to her?"_

_Bella? My best girl…my everything. I reach out in the darkness and Ann places something cool in my hand. I realize it's my connection to her, and I press it up to my ear._

"_Bella?" I whisper._

"_Oh, Edward," she gasps._

_I can hear that she's broken. I can hear the tears and I desperately want to reach through the phone and pull her into my arms._

"_Don't cry baby. Please don't cry."_

_I'd give anything to have her here in my arms again. _

_Her words wrap around and soothe me, but when Tanya comes up I picture her brown eyes flickering with fire. My girl wants to protect me. I hear the lioness in her voice. If Bella had been in Malibu earlier…oh God, I don't want to think about what would have happened. _

"_I'm going to get on the next plane, Edward."_

"_No, baby." When I hear her talk about rushing back to take care of me, I realize that I need to protect her too. Her future is at her fingertips, and it's brilliantly bright._

"_I'm all right," I whisper. I want to convince her, even if I can't convince myself._

_I shift in the bed and look towards the stripes of silver light shimmering through the blinds. The quiet stillness of Ojai's nightfall creates an open stage where each word and idea becomes bigger._

"_I love you, Bella." _

"_I love you too," she responds longingly._

_Sometimes I can smell her fear, the crushing of her heart when she thinks I won't wait for her. If only she could see that I would wait for her forever, I could endure a thousand starless nights if I knew I would one day wake up to her light._

..~*~..

It's a good thing Bella called ahead because when I ring Ann's doorbell, I'm not exactly embraced by the welcome committee. The look of anger and mistrust in my son's eyes says it all. _Who the fuck do I think I am, to suddenly sweep in out of nowhere like I'm going to save the day?_

Even Ann looks irritated. But I can never begrudge Ann because so many of her looks and mannerisms remind me of Liz. Like Liz, she would do anything for my son.

I will also never forget the words she gave me at Liz's memorial…my most painful, yet precious gift.

"Liz wanted you to find your happiness, Edward. You know she never stopped loving you. She did until the very end."

I carry those words with me every day and they give me strength.

.

I'm here for him, Liz. I'm going to take care of our boy.

.

"Come on, Edward." I say with command. "We're heading back to L.A. We have some business to take care of."

..~*~..

_Bella. _

_The sudden appearance of my father has only one explanation, and that is the only reason I hug Ann goodbye and follow the beast to his ostentatious Bentley. Bella has a plan, and I have faith in her._

_We are on the 101 heading south, before he finally speaks. _

"_So, Tanya is back, huh?"_

_Ah, so the expert on deranged gorgeous women is going to needle me about my ex?_

"_And?..." I'm too tired for any of this._

"_She needs to be gone."_

_I laugh, and it sounds weird. I can't remember last time I laughed. _

"_Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."_

"_I'm going to help you, Edward."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because I really want to. I know I'm thirty fucking years too late, but I still have a few years left, and I want to be a part of your life."_

"_Well, you're thirty fucking years too late."_

_I watch him bristle, the color moving up his neck and over his ears._

"_Okay, I deserve that and more. But can we take this one step at a time. Can I just help you get rid of Tanya?"_

"_Bella put you up to this," I state, knowing he would have never come otherwise._

"_That girl loves you so much. She would do anything for you. And yes, she called me asking for help. But you have to know how damn smart she is…she called because she knew I could fix it faster than anyone else, and this needs to be fast."_

"_Help?"_

"_Yes, but even more important. She knew I would want to."_

_We are gliding down the stretch of hills that lead you out of the farmlands of Oxnard and begin the descent towards the urban sprawl of L.A. The morning mist still lingers as the sun fights to break through._

_If he thinks he can help me, I'm not going to make it easy. I'm not going to hold back. _

"_I have a question that has been on my mind. Did you ever fuck Tanya?"_

_His head jerks toward me, and I can see the answer in his eyes._

"_Hell, no. How long have you wondered that?"_

_I scrape my fingertips along the surface of my jeans._

"_I guess I started wondering about everything after what happened with Andrea."_

_I see his shoulders slump. "I deserve that. Yet another one of my jack-ass mistakes."_

"_That wasn't very fatherly behavior when you married the girl I was dating."_

"_No it wasn't. I lost all my dignity there, and I'm still paying for it dearly, believe me."_

"_Why did you do it?" I surprise myself by asking. I've hated him for so long I never wanted to know the truth, suspecting it would only make it sting more._

"_You know I think with my cock. When she tracked me down after you guys broke up, and asked for my help convincing you to go back with her, I fell for it, hook, line and sinker. She was a great actress, real Oscar potential there."_

"_Broke up with her? I never broke up with her. I was still fucking her until she disappeared for a few days. I got worried so I called her work and was told she was on her honeymoon."_

_He grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles go white and I realize his sting must not feel too good either._

"_Crazy bitch," he hisses under his breath. "I had no idea." He turns towards me for a second before he looks back at the road. "Did you love her?"_

"_Hardly," I admit. "But I did love my cock in her mouth. She had exceptional oral skills."_

"_That she did," he sighs. _

"_For what it's worth, I'm really sorry, Edward. It is one of the greatest regrets of my life. She was not worth destroying whatever relationship I still had with you."_

"_Yeah, well, this is a little too new-agey for my cynical soul, but Mom told me once that regrets make your head hang low as you stumble backwards. Instead she told me to look up and always move forward."_

_There is a heavy silence as we both consider that Mom surely wanted us to understand this if we have any kind of chance at a relationship again._

_I look out the window noticing the menagerie of cars. Everyone's headed somewhere: they rush to jobs, and obligations; some head to an empty house, or are greeted with the agony of a silent stare. We are all moving forward, heading somewhere, whether we want to or not. But there are the lucky ones who rush home to love, which for me is all about a brown eyed girl who always greets me with open arms. _

_Fuck the fear. It is time for me to look up and move forward._

_I'm going to make you proud, Mom._

..~*~..

"Edward, it's been a while," Walter says as he shakes my son's hand.

I notice Edward straighten and return the handshake earnestly. He's trying.

"I'm just sorry it's under such circumstances," Edward says.

"But that is why we lawyers exist. If the world were perfect, and ex's weren't trouble, I'd be out of work."

"I guess so." Edward offers a sad smile.

I sit back as Walter and his younger associate Colin, prompt Edward for the phone call. They ask a few questions which he answers thoughtfully. I'm relieved he is taking this as seriously as he needs to. The last thing we want is for this to backfire.

I hold my breath when they finally dial her. I'm never nervous, so the feeling surprises me. Walter gives a thumbs up when she picks up the call.

I watch Edward intently as Walter motions for him to speak. Damn, even in distress he's a good looking kid. Despite his challenges, he has made something of himself. He's a big artist; he's stayed away from drugs, and maintained the house in Malibu. And to top it off, now he's in love with the right girl. His mom would be so fucking proud…if only she were here to see it. She would love Bella so much.

I'd give anything for her to be here again.

..~*~..

"_Hey, Tanya." I keep my voice even and blasé, as I've been coached. The less I engage with her the better._

"_Edward," she purrs. "I'm so glad you called, I've been waiting for you."_

"_We do need to talk Tanya," I coax her. "But first you need to hear from someone that is with me. Hold on; I'm putting you on speaker phone."_

_Walter explains the legalities, that due to her threatening behavior, actions will need to be taken. The bitch must really be hungry because she stays on the line with the hook of actually connecting to me again dangling in front of her._

"_You know Edward, all of this bullshit isn't necessary. I just want to see you in person and talk to you. There's so much I want to say."_

"_Well, I'm just not interested in talking Tanya, I waited a long time to hear from you and frankly, I just don't care anymore."_

"_I never stopped caring about you, wanting you," she offers, her voice as false as the fake tits I used to encounter in my dark, pre-Bella days._

"_I'm head-over-heels in love now, with the woman I'm going to marry. She's the best thing that ever happened to me and her happiness is all I care about. Your stunts are just an aggravating annoyance."_

_Her tone immediately shifts to ugly. The veil of false kindness has been pulled away._

"_If your relationship is so great, why is she leaving you?"_

_I freeze, my heart pounding. I want to kill that bitch. How dare she say anything about Bella. I feel the fury burn across my skin._

_There is a shift in the room. I notice my father lean forward in his seat, as if he's going to jump in. Walter raises his hands, both palms facing me, and lowers them slowly in a calming gesture. I take a deep breath._

"_You don't know our plans, Tanya, and you are the last person on earth I would share them with. Besides you have a lot of fucking nerve to talk about anyone else leaving. How many years ago did you disappear without a word?"_

_She ignores the obvious and tries another tact. "She's cute Edward-in a mousey way. But I know you-you need a real woman who is attentive and can really satisfy you. Give me a chance to remind you what you've been missing."_

_I can't believe that bitch has the nerve to say this shit in front of the lawyers. Why did I neglect to see that she was always a total nutcase? Was I was so desperate to connect with someone that I refused to see who she really was?_

_With my resolve strengthening, my mood lightens, my voice lifting._

"_Oh Tanya, my beautiful Bella makes me incredibly happy in _every_ way. No one has ever made me feel the way she does."_

_Walter makes the wrap motion and I'm relieved._

"_Look, I've got to run, I'm meeting Bella soon. Walter will wrap things up now as we won't be talking again."_

_I don't even say goodbye, just silently fume while the lawyer serves up the threats. Every time she tries to argue, they simply cut her off. It's an astounding relief when Walter finally presses the button that disconnects the call, every trace of her fading from the room like a rancid smell once the fans come on._

..~*~..

"So what now?" Edward asks.

We're going to your place. You need to pack."

"Pack?"

"Yes, we're taking a short trip. Oh, and you'll need your passport. You'll be heading straight to Paris after our trip."

"Where are we going?" he asks, looking suspicious.

"There's something I need to show you in New York."

"New York?' he mumbles, distracted. "But what about Bella? She'll have to fly to Paris alone. That's just wrong."

"She's a big girl, I'm sure she can handle it," I respond.

He suddenly starts patting his pockets and then reaches in the back to grab his jacket to search the pockets there as well.

"Where's my damn phone?" he grumbles.

"I have it," I confirm. He isn't going to like this.

"Well, let me have it. I need to call Bella."

"I've already called her and told her that you won't be talking until Paris."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Give me my damn phone. I need to talk to her."

"No, we have work to do, and I want you focused, not calling Bella every ten minutes."

"Fuck you, old man. I can't believe this. You kidnap me, and then take my phone away. If you think this is going to bring us closer, some tough-love-bonding bullshit then your head is further up your ass than I thought."

"Tough talk from a boy who was hiding out at his aunt's-all because he was afraid of a slutty ex-girlfriend…really tough talk…"

"You're a mother-fucker. And you always totally sucked as a dad."

I grit my teeth hard.

"And you still suck…"

I glare at him, the ungrateful bastard. "You're a pussy, a certified momma's boy."

"Pull over, asshole. I'm getting out of the car."

I'm tempted…he's such an ass. But then I think about Elizabeth. I can't forget what I promised her earlier.

_No regrets._ I turn back towards him.

"Like hell you are. No more running away and hiding this time, Edward. We're going to fight this out until we can get past it."

He digs into the upholstery and turns towards the window, the silence is deafening the whole way to Malibu.

..~*~..

_As I head to my front door I notice the old man linger in the garden near the koi pond._

"_What?" I ask, not masking the irritation from my voice._

"_This looks great. I'm impressed you've kept it up. Liz would be so happy."_

_I'm shocked he's noticed. It feels strangely good to hear, as much as I don't want to admit it. The garden has many admirers, but it's more satisfying because it's from him. After all, this was once his house too and he knows what the garden meant to Mom._

"_So I'm packing for New York and Paris?" I ask as we pass through the front door, heading upstairs._

"_Yes, I've arranged for Jackson to be dropped off here with my bag at eight forty-five. He'll drive us to the airport in my car. I've also arranged dinner to be delivered at seven."_

"_You've thought of everything," I grumble as I head upstairs. _

_I make a lot of noise getting my bags out of the hall closet, but as soon as I'm safely in my room I pick up the phone by my bed. As I lift the receiver I hear a monotone chanting. _

"_At the tone the time will be six-twelve and forty seconds, at the tone the time will be…"_

_He has dialed the number for 'time' and left it running so I can't dial out. I slam the phone down. Fuck. If he weren't my Father, I'd kick his ass. _

_I hurl the suitcase up on the bed and rip it open. He better know what he's doing. If he messes this up, I'll never forgive him._

..~*~..

Over thirty minutes have passed and he still hasn't come down. I remember he used to be a fast packer so I finally decide to go see what's up. When I crack open his door he is sitting on the edge of the bed staring out the window. There is shit all over the place but nothing in the suitcase yet. He looks completely lost.

"Edward," I call out.

He jumps and whips his head around. He must not have even heard me coming.

"Come on, let's go take a walk on the beach."

He pauses, then acquiesces, and rises off the bed to follow me out of the room. At the edge of the yard we remove our shoes and socks and roll up our pants before heading across the sand towards the water's edge. The sun and breeze skimming off the water are soothing. I'd forgotten how much I love the beach.

We're a distance away from the house before I turn to him.

"So what was that about? You looked lost when I came upstairs."

He picks up a small stone and tosses it into the ocean.

"Don't get me wrong. I still hate you for keeping me from talking to Bella, but I do appreciate your help getting rid of Tanya. That's a huge weight off of me right now."

"And…" I coax him.

"But it doesn't change the fact that Bella is leaving. I'm going to wait for her, and she intends to wait for me, but that doesn't change the simple truth that I'm not sure how I'm going to get through this next year without her by my side."

His whole body curls forward as if he's fighting a physical pain, a twisting of his insides, that tightens with each breath. I recognize all the signs because I've felt that kind of loss-I've lived it.

"The problem is that I can't stop thinking about everything I will miss…all the nights we fell asleep in each other's arms. You know the small moments: making lunch together, sitting on the balcony, and talking about our day. That's what I will miss the most. A year sounds like forever right about now."

I nod and turn towards the ocean. "It is forever," I agree, my tone serious. "You need to open you eyes and consider what you can do to make this work for both of you. I don't want to see you lose her, Edward.

"Just like Liz was for me, Bella is the best thing that's ever happened to you. Believe me, you may never have a chance for this kind of love again."

"I know," he agrees, as he looks out over the horizon.

"Well then quit fucking around. You need to fight for her with everything you have."

He turns to me and finally…finally, I see a fire ignite in his eyes.

..~*~..

_JFK early in the morning is jarring after spending the night being hurled through the air stuffed in a cylindrical steel tube. It is so unnatural to wake up on a plane being offered tiny glasses of orange juice by women in polyester suits. Then you are forced to tumble out into the pool of humanity in the terminal. The walkway is full of people from places as unremarkable as Des Moines and Salt Lake City anxious to leave or arrive in the 'big apple.' As we shuffle with the masses towards the baggage claim we pass under a large sign._

'_Welcome to New York,' the sign says. Well fuck me. Why am I in New York again? As I recall my baby just left New York to head home, so I don't really see how this can be relevant._

_I turn towards the father figure and notice how worn out he looks, worry etched across his face. Fashion wise he doesn't look so hot either. His very expensive Tom Ford slacks and shirt are wrinkled so dramatically that he looks like a human Shar pei._

"_So where are we staying?" I ask as he checks his Blackberry._

"_My place."_

"_You have a place in New York? Since when?"_

"_For a few years. I bought it when we were shooting a series here. It was during that time you weren't talking to me." He smirks._

"_Wow…you're full of surprises." I shake my head and continue along._

"_Do we have a meeting here or something?"_

"_Just wait; you'll see."_

_The man of mystery is getting on my nerves but I keep my mouth shut knowing I can't possibly have a logical argument until I've had at least one decent cup of coffee._

_We hook up with the limo driver and head towards the city. I fall back into the leather seat and close my eyes to try and calm my nerves. _

_But instead, my stillness allows a surreal dream, from my stilted sleep on the plane, to resurface. It's haunting in that it's still so vivid in my mind._

_It seems I am high enough to be in the clouds, the City of New York a juggernaut of steel and glass below me. My search for Bella has led me to a landing of the most unlikely of locations, near the top of the Chrysler Building. _

_The moment I see her I realize that nothing is how I'd hoped, for although I've found her; she's not the same. This is not my Bella._

_She's wrapped around a soaring gargoyle, right on the edge of the sky. She appears frozen in place and has become part of the façade. Every part of her, even her gorgeous mane of hair, is a burnished silver as she holds onto the beast, while they watch over the city. _

_I'm so stunned to finally find her that I fearlessly crawl across the building's ledge until I can touch her metallized skin. She is cool and rigid, her patina smooth to my touch. My heart is pounding as I realize that she is trapped in the metal, lost to me. My Bella of flesh and bones, heart and soul is gone. Stunned with grief, I waver and suddenly become aware of the staggering height. The cars and people below are moving dots in a concrete landscape._

_I realize that I must separate myself from her and crawl to safety or risk plummeting to my death. Just when I am about to pull away in despair, I feel a warmth spreading under my hand. I quickly realize that the more I touch her surface, the more the metal fades, melting away until her soft skin is exposed. My hands frantically work, stroking, and rubbing every curve and plane of her, every nook and cranny, as the movements free her from her architectural prison. My mood shifts from hope, to euphoric the more progress I make. When she's finally free enough to slowly flex her stiff limbs, I'm able to pull her into my arms._

"_Edward," she whispers, her naked body wrapping around me as I scoot us off the ledge and onto the flat part of the landing. I pull off my jacket and wrap it around her. _

"_I've waited so long. I never thought you'd come," she cries._

"_I'm here, Bella, I'm here," I chant as I gather her into my arms. Our kiss is frantic and searching. I'm overcome just to hold her again._

"_I've missed you, Bella," I whisper as her lips move across my neck. _

_I lift her up and carry her to the exit where the stairs begin. I realize that we can't take the elevator as James is probably hiding there, waiting for Bella. If I see him now I'll surely rip his head off._

_She buries her face in my neck as I begin our descent. I have no idea how many stairs we have gone down before we come upon another landing so densely shrouded with clouds that I can barely make out the four poster bed just feet away. As I approach the edge of the mattress, I lower her gently onto the white sheets._

_Despite my tender attention, she pulls me down on top of her, frantic and wanting. She reaches down and undoes my pants until her hand is grasping my arousal. We work together pushing away clothes, whispering words full of desire and love._

"_Hurry," she gasps. "There's so little time."_

_Her fingers rake across my back until I sink down into her. She is wild at first, writhing and moaning, begging me over and over to fuck her hard, harder, harder still. I fear I will break her in half, but I give her what she wants…always._

"_Edward," she cries as she peaks, and I feel every moment acutely as she completely surrenders._

_I keep moving in sync with her, deeply stroking through her climax, until her thighs are trembling. Just as I think she is going to still, she rolls me to my back, and sinks down over me. Her movements become slower as she makes love to me, her hands pressed over my heart. Her voice is so real in my head that I can still hear her final words—spoken like a sonnet, her voice strong and clear. _

"_We cannot wait for the clouds to lift, or the sea to calm. We must love each other as if each breath will be our last. Your heart knows the answer, Edward. Step carefully, purposefully...our story is already written and each word we pass over carries us closer…either to our beginning, or to our end."_

_Those are the last words I hear before her skin begins to turn silver and harden again and I wake, gasping for air._

_._

_My eyes snap open to the harsh glare of morning light and the sounds of the city. We have already crossed the bridge and Lexington Avenue, heading West. We must be close to our destination. I shake my head and rub my hands over my eyes._

_Closer to our beginning or to our end? What the fuck did that mean?_

_It was just a dream…not the end of the world…just a fucking dream, Edward. Get a grip._

_That fucking dream will haunt me all day as I ache for her, counting each moment until I see her again._

..~*~..

He's wary, a tentative animal pacing the apartment, watching the clock as if he is late for an uncertain meeting without a destination. To distract him, I lure him to my favorite café for a late breakfast.

He then follows me to a three-story art supply store on Fifty-Seventh where I insist I need refills for my Montblanc. As I'd suspected, he soon wanders off to play with the paintbrushes and study the book selection. He is still just the boy who wants to make art, and I'm hoping this place inspires him.

I finally drag him out over an hour later. Other than a book he intends to read on the way to Paris, he arranges everything to be delivered.

On the way down Fifty-Forth he insists on stopping at MOMA for the strange Tim Burton show. I grit my teeth and follow him into the exhibit of baffling art. Since when do film directors get major museum shows for their doodles? Perhaps I should throw some paint at some canvases and have a thing at the Met. That would be a sure fire way to meet some interesting women.

I am reminded however, that I find museums very irritating: the crowds, the obnoxious_ apparent_ art critics who comment loudly, and the poor excuses for art. But despite this fact, I soldier on. I have an agenda so I follow him from room to room and nod as he softly comments on what he finds inspiring. By the time we leave he is itching to get home and create.

"Where is Bella going to live? I ask as we step back out onto Fifty Fourth Street, pretending I don't know. "Isn't it near here?"

Yeah, she said Fifty-Second and Madison."

"Well, let's go check it out."

I smirk as we approach her new address. It's not that there is anything wrong with it. The neighborhood is good; it's clean and well kept. It's just completely lacking in any kind of personality or appeal. It looks like the last place someone as special as Bella should live.

We get the doorman to let us in but by the time we pass through the lobby and start down a hallway, Edward begins to come unglued.

"I need to get out of here...now," he gasps.

"Of course," I murmur as we head out. Mission accomplished, time to turn it up a notch.

..~*~..

_Even though Bella had told me about the place, described it, I still wasn't prepared for the feeling that crashed into me as we walked through the soulless vacuum of a residence. Residence…the word alone sounds as lifeless as a parking garage or storage facility. I had to get out of there immediately, before the walls fell down over me._

_I can't see Bella there, saying hello to the doorman after a long day of shooting; gathering her mail and waiting patiently for the elevator to take her to her empty box where she lives…the empty box where she lives-without me._

_I don't remember anything but my father taking my arm and leading me back to his place. He parks me on the couch and brings me a bottle of water. I look up at him. Can't you see I'm heartbroken, not dehydrated? But I twist off the cap and down it anyway._

"_Let's talk some business, Edward," he says firmly._

"_Business?" I ask. What the fuck. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not up for talking business right now."_

"_I mean life business, emotional business…survival business. That's why we're here."_

"_Really?" I murmur as he opens the balcony door and steps outside. He motions for me to join him. I tentatively get up and follow him outside._

_He turns towards me. "Because just like in business, sometimes you can lose perspective and miss that the solutions are right in front of you. You know, there really is an answer to every problem."_

"_It may not be the answer you want though," I respond quietly._

"_Or maybe it is. Here's an example. Will you work with me on this?"_

_I nod. It's difficult to not give him something when he's trying so hard._

"_Look down there, Edward," he says pointing to the busy street far below. "Now imagine you see Bella down there. What's she doing?"_

_I feel a brief flash of excitement to even think of Bella being here now-so close to where I am. But the surge is followed by a letdown when I remind myself that this is a game. I force myself to play; I throw out the first thing that comes into my head._

"_She's getting into a cab."_

"_Yes, a cab." He nods his head. "Now I want you to close your eyes and imagine that you are back in Malibu alone, while she is here getting into a cab, going somewhere and moving forward in her new life."_

_Fuck. I reach out and grip the railing hard to steady myself. I want to rip these images out of my head. Where the fuck is she going? Who is she going to see? The bile rises up into my throat._

_I've yet to figure out how I can have a life in Malibu without her. I know I'm supposed to try to figure it out, but I'm not sure how to…and I'm running out of time._

_My father seems pleased with my evident dismay. I guess this is the effect he wanted. The lesson must be coming soon. It better be a good one._

"_Okay, Edward." He reaches over and gently holds my shoulder, steadying me. "Now imagine your easel-your studio set up right here, and you're painting." I look to the open space full of light where he's pointed. He's suggesting that I paint here? What does that mean? I look at him, my eyes wide and searching._

"_And?" I ask._

"_And Bella is still in the cab, but in a minute she will get out, enter the building, and step into the elevator." _

_I can picture it perfectly, and my heart's pounding so hard I can barely breathe. _

"_And you know what? She's heading up this elevator because she's coming home to you."_

"_She's coming home to me? What are you saying, dad?"_

_As soon as the word slips out of my mouth, I see his face brighten. I don't even remember the last time I called him dad. His expression softens as he looks me in the eyes._

"_You can do this, son. You can come with Bella to New York and live here with her. I know you can-I believe in you, and I believe in you and Bella together."_

_I can see by the look in his eyes that he means every word. He then reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, offering it to me. I hold open my hand and he drops two keys into my palm. _

"_I want you two to stay here, to live here while Bella does her year in New York."_

"_Are you serious?" I ask, completely overwhelmed by the gesture. I scan the apartment and see it in a new context. I can imagine Bella curled up on the couch, the morning light falling over her as she smiles at me. We could be happy here. I know we could._

_I look back at him stunned. "But don't you need it for when you stay in New York?"_

"_I haven't been coming as often lately. Besides, I love the Plaza. I can stay there if I need to during the year. What a sacrifice that would be, to have to slum it at the Plaza," he jokes. _

"_Are you sure?" I ask, amazed. This is, by far, the nicest thing he has ever done for me. It's not just the place, it's the way he has shown me the answer and put his faith in me._

"_I'm very serious," he acknowledges. "Believe me, I wouldn't joke about this. I want to help you, Son…I want you to be happy."_

_I look at him and smile, realizing what he has given me. Everything about this trip has been so calculated and clever. He's fucking unbelievable._

_The keys are warming up in my hands. Instead of the questions that have eaten away at me since the news of Bella's move, these two fragments of pressed metal, hold all the answers. I was blinded by fear, and my dad has given me sight. I have the keys to my future with Bella. _

_Suddenly, and most spectacularly, I have everything._

..~*~..

Did you hear that Liz? He called me dad.

I never thought I would hear that word out of his mouth again. Seeing him so happy and hopeful, makes me want to do more…crazy gestures that would be overdone. I have no restraint.

I remember the look on your face, Liz, when I brought home the go-cart for our boy. We had been getting along for a few weeks and I wanted to reward him. You always told me that I have no restraint and that all Edward needed was to spend time with me, not a bunch of stuff. As it was, Edward liked the go-cart but he drove it too fast and crashed it his third time out. I thought you would never forgive me. I had to arrange the best plastic surgeon in LA. to work on him, minimizing the scar on his handsome forehead.

I look over at him as his eyes wander across the apartment. I can see that he is imaging his life with Bella here. If he's anything like his dad I can imagine what he'll do with his beautiful Bella all over this apartment. I'm sure I'll have to get all the upholstery thoroughly cleaned when they're done with this place. But even I know that what will matters most is just the simple fact that they are with each other, their lives growing together instead of apart. It hits me how much Liz would approve of this plan, and a warmth spreads through me.

Oh Liz, you would love Bella…you really would…she's strong, smart, kind and beautiful…so much like you.

As for Edward, I'm finally taking care of our boy, Liz baby…and this time, I think I'm finally doing it right.

..~*~..

_The afternoon blurs into evening. Dad takes me to dinner at Le Cirque where we have huge steaks. It's the first time I've been really hungry in days. Over a fine bottle of wine plans are made, ideas are formed. Now that my decision to move is made he wants to help me in every way and it's overwhelming. I finally have to slow him down when he insists on my arranging rose pedals to be scattered over our suite in Paris._

"_Women love that shit, believe me, Son."_

"_That is so corny," I tease him. "I'm not doing that. I want to meet Bella outside. We'll be in Paris for God's sakes…the most romantic city in the world. I can think of so many better places than a hotel room strewn with flower fragments."_

"_Why in the hell would you want to meet her outside? Don't you want her on your bed and in your arms, when you tell her that you're moving to be with her? You know you're going to end up in bed anyway as soon as she hears the news."_

"_Well, even if that's true, it'll just make the build-up that much sweeter when we finally get there."_

"_Man, I'd love to see her face when you tell her."_

"_You're not coming to Paris, Dad."_

"_I know, I know," he laughs._

_As the evening goes on I ask about what it was like when he first fell in love with Mom…how he knew she was the one. His eyes get soft as he describes her and their early days together. From his descriptions, they were incredibly happy._

_But what surprises me are his recollections about how thrilled he was when she was pregnant with me, that the experience brought them even closer together. I didn't realize that he was present at my birth. It just seemed so far from the type of man he is. Maybe there is a side to him I've just never looked close enough to see._

_That idea is confirmed when he tells me that as a toddler I would have these fits, and the only thing that would calm me down is when he played piano for me. Mom would put me in my high chair next to his bench and I would quiet down and listen to every note._

"_I can't imagine what kind of father I will be," I lament after hearing his stories._

"_I think you'll make a good father," he says reassuringly. "You are so much more sensitive than I ever was. If you learn from everything I did wrong, and take from everything your mom did right, I think you'll be fine."_

_I nod, my mind picturing being a father. I picture Bella pregnant with our baby and I can't imagine anything more beautiful._

"_And don't wait too long, okay? I'm not getting any older and I've got all kinds of plans for how I'm going to spoil my granddaughter."_

..~*~..

I open my eyes to the early morning light and wonder why I'm awake so early. I could really use more sleep but it's no use…once I'm awake there is no going back. I rub my eyes and work myself out of bed. One thing about getting older, it takes a lot more effort to get going in the morning.

I decide on a hot shower, but as I get out I hear something in my bedroom. I quickly wrap a towel around my waist and ease the door open. I am relieved to confirm that no one is there, but then I realize that my partially unpacked luggage looks askew.

I step closer to the sitting chair where my carry on is perched and notice a faint glow rising out of one of the side pockets…Edward's cell phone. That's exactly where I had secretly stashed it.

I lift it up, and check the screen to see if Edward just called Bella. His call record shows that he hasn't made a call since before I got him in Ojai. I check his text records next…bingo. My son finally pulled it off, and sent a text to his girl. Feeling guilty, but also insanely curious, I open the message, only to find three stark yet powerful words glowing off the screen.

_Believe in me._

I'm so overwhelmed that I drop to the edge of the bed to sit and gather myself. I take several deep breaths as I sort through this surge of emotion. Isn't this all Edward ever needed, from Bella, from me, from those he cares about in this world? My son may have a tough shell, he may be very difficult at times but in the end he just wants us to know that he can be a good man…someone deserving of our love.

There is no doubt how much Bella believes in him. I know with all my heart that she will be overjoyed with his decision to come with her. All I can hope is that these few days together have shown him how much I believe in him too.

..~*~..

_While Dad finishes his shower, I take my coffee to the balcony and enjoy the Sunday morning quiet of New York. The streets below are fairly empty and subdued with the lavender gray light that settles between the tall buildings. A few delivery guys unload their goods, while an occasional person walks down the street at a leisurely Sunday morning pace. _

_I realize I like it. I like the feeling in this apartment high above the madness, and it's inspiring me. Vivid images form in my mind that I will soon rough out in my sketch book. _

_I decide that when the weather permits, Bella and I will sit out here and gaze at the view while we have Sunday morning coffee, or an evening glass of wine. I smile widely as I imagine her out here with me._

_Back in L.A. I'm sure Bella is still asleep and hasn't gotten my text, but before long she will be up, and hopefully heading to JFK. It's been so painful not to talk to her, but I have to admit it helped me immerse myself in the experience of being here with Dad. I've been able to take a step back from the jigsaw puzzle of my life and look at everything a different way._

_I close my eyes and imagine seeing Bella, holding and kissing her. And then it hits me where I will meet her in Paris. It's absolutely perfect. I get up to find Dad and share my idea._

..~*~..

"I like it," I admit, even though it wasn't my suggestion. "It's very cinematic. So you will approach her from a distance? Will you charge forward and lift her up into your arms?"

"No, I think I'll be a bit more low key than that." He laughs.

"Too bad, nothing like a little drama in your romance."

"Oh, we've had a lifetime's worth of drama. I think it's about time we toned down the drama."

We spend the rest of the day finishing up plans. I email Louis at the Plaza with my message for Bella. Edward decides that he wants to keep his studio set up in Malibu in case they travel back and forth, so we head back to the art supply store to get him an easel and enough supplies to get started. Luckily he knows some artists in New York that can hook him up with the right people for his canvases. So other than books and clothes and such, we decide that the apartment has everything else they need. It's more than move-in ready.

Early evening when he rolls his suitcase to the front hall, I feel a heavy melancholy settle over me. Just as I'm getting my groove at being a good dad to my son, our time is up. I can't help but wonder if the progress we've made will stick once he leaves this intense experience behind him.

We get the call that the car is waiting downstairs. I hand him his phone. "It's all in your hands now."

He smiles as he turns it on. "Look, there's a text from my girl."

"What does it say?" I ask.

"I do," he grins. "Bella believes in me."

"Yes, she does." I smile, remembering the message he was so determined to get to her.

He opens his leather messenger bag and puts his phone away, then rechecks for his passport and boarding printout. He pulls it out and looks at it.

"Everything alright?" I ask.

"Couldn't be better because in three hours my plane is taking off, six hours past that I'll be in Paris, and around three hours after that Bella will be in my arms." He grins widely.

"And it will be a new beginning," I affirm.

He looks back at his ticket and raises his eyebrows. "Hey, this is First Class. I only booked business."

"Nothing but the best for you two," I say smiling.

"Dad…you've done so much, I don't even know what to say." He shuffles his feet and looks down.

"Just say that you will hold your head up, and keep moving forward."

"Just like Mom said," he says softly.

"Take good care of that girl of yours. She's definitely a keeper."

His eyes spark as he looks up at me. "I will. Thanks Dad…for everything."

I pull him into my arms and hug him tightly. "Just promise that this is a new beginning for us too, okay?"

He pulls away, looks me in the eyes and nods. "Okay."

I haven't shed a tear since Liz's passing. But when he steps into the hallway and the door closes, I feel a tear make its way down my face.

..~*~..

"_More champagne?" asks the overly eager flight attendant._

"_Sure," I say, handing her my glass. "I'm celebrating."_

"_Lovely, what's the occasion?"_

"_I'm head over heels in love, and I'm going to meet my beautiful girl in Paris."_

_She smiles graciously even though I can tell she's disappointed. "Lucky girl," she says before moving on._

_I'm the lucky one, I whisper to myself._

_._

_The rest of the flight is one long extended fantasy about all of the ways I'm going to make love to Bella. I am desperately craving her touch, needing to be inside of her and watching her expression melt when I take her, thrusting deeply as she calls out my name. _

_I've never been so grateful for those airline blankets. Mine works perfectly to cover the evidence of my searing desire. I don't think a flight has ever felt so long._

_._

_Once in our hotel suite I take the greatest pleasure in all of the signs of Bella's presence. There are lingering bubbles in the oversized tub, and her lotions are carefully lined up on the marble counter. I open the closet and am enchanted to see her clothes carefully hung; beautiful, special things she must have picked out just for our trip. I run my fingers across the butter soft silks, polished cottons and gabardine. But my final undoing is when I pull open the dresser drawer and find her lingerie. I lift the most delicate pair of satin and lace panties up and hold them in my hands, imagining them on Bella…the pale pink against her creamy soft skin._

_Unable to control myself a moment longer I pull off my clothes and move to the shower. As hot water pours over me, I picture her with me, my lips moving from her lips, down her neck and to her breasts, as her hand slowly strokes me. _

_My hand is foaming with bath gel as my grip tightens. _

_I imagine pressing her against the wall of the shower, lifting her until her legs are wrapped around me. I thrust into her, pressing her against the marble as she moans and gives me everything. _

_I grip my hand tighter, imagining it's her: wet, hot, keening with sensation and passion…begging me for more._

"_I love you, Bella," I whisper over and over. _

_My knees buckle as I climax, flashes of her blinding me with their brilliance._

_._

_I am especially careful as I shave, slowly dragging the razor along my throat. There is a feeling of ritual, a moment of great significance as I button up my pressed shirt, tuck it into my tailored jeans and pull on my fine wool jacket. I want to be smooth and tailored. I want to look so good that I am the only person Bella sees. I finish with after shave-some exotic elixir that will pull her towards me until she is tight in my arms. _

_Oh fuck, I can't take much more of this anticipation._

_My hands tremble as I gather my room key, wallet and cell phone. I check my watch for the hundredth time. She's probably still in front of the Monet's wondering how she'll feel when she sees me again. I decide to go slow, ease into my story and all the ways that our lives are about to change. As much as I want to, I won't sprint along the path and sweep her into my arms. I am going to be calm and thoughtful, so she knows without a doubt, that I am centered and ready for our lives together to truly begin._

_._

_The gravel crunches under my feet, as a breeze gently pushes me down the path. One, two, three paces forward…seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…so many steps until I reach her. Narrow trees are lined like soldiers, reaching high, meticulously trimmed so that they are pointing towards the sky. The sun is burning bright, the clouds low enough that if I were still a boy I would try to catch frosty wisps with a net and save them in a jar. _

_I'm too afraid to look toward the horizon, for if she isn't there, I'm afraid my heart will burst. I love her… echoing over and over in my mind. The idea that she loves me too gives me the strength to keep moving ahead._

_No matter where on this earth we end up, Bella will be always be mine and I will always be hers._

_Forty-four, forty-five…sixty-one, sixty-two…the long shadows fall over me and I step into light, then dark, then light again. What if her heart has shifted and decided it's time for a new direction. What if her great adventure doesn't have an extra seat for me to come along on the ride?_

_My hands curl into fists but I consciously relax them and take a deep breath, letting go of the fear. I love her…she loves me._

_Eighty-nine, ninety, ninety-one…I take an even deeper breath and look up._

_Every single question is answered in her soft smile, as her Audrey Hepburn dress flutters in the breeze. She is standing, patiently waiting. When I step closer I can see that her neck and cheeks are flushed with excitement. Every look and gesture confirms that she loves me too._

_I am tough, and resist the overwhelming urge to fall to my knees as I approach her. Instead I take her hand._

"_Hi," I say softly._

_She takes a step closer, biting her lip. Oh, I want to kiss her so badly. This kind of restraint is testing me to my very limits._

_She smiles and her expression lights up. "You found me," she says. Other words fall between us but all I can do is look in her eyes and feel the overwhelming love._

_She's wearing the charm bracelet, a reminder of all of our best times. She wore it knowing what that would mean to me._

_I pull her into my arms…just where she is meant to be. I won't ever let her go._

_I love you, I love you, I love you…_

_She presses closer. Every part of her saying, I love you too…_

_Are you ready for our future, Bella? It beckons even when we are countless miles apart. It was imbedded in our DNA before we even met…woven in the threads of our past lives, and formed the shield protecting us against the wall of fire we've just walked through. _

_But now our future is a smooth idea, full of hope…a blank canvas we will fill with vibrant colors, every shade and tone._

_It's here, my love, up ahead where the light is brightest. Now take my hand and we'll walk there together._

_._

_._

* * *

**_I hope you enjoyed visiting Artward's world again. I still miss my regular visits with him. Let me know what you think..._**

**_xoxo_**

**_abbie _**

**_http:/alongtheabstractway (dot) blogspot (dot) com/_**

_****__Join me on Twitter: http:/ twitter (dot) com/#!/ abstractway_


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